Turn away the eyes

And comfort the ears:

Let the news fade

So all the angry voices are quietened,

Their fear lessened,

Their turmoil stilled,

The mangled knot of fractions thought

Fermenting doom and worse

Popped in the corner and ignored.

What is the real news,

The new news

Born in the self centre,

In the place that is no place,

The voice speaking

Of heart

And love

And truth,

That we are more

Than these jagged thoughts

Blown out of all proportion

And enlarged

Into flagrant monsters?

We are more than this:

More in the quiet place,

The stillness,

The ever expanding space

Of new ideas

Made from nothing.

The time has come to acknowledge love

And its infinite yet subtle process,

It’s utter gift,

It’s ubiquitous and never failing availability;

For it is free for all to take their fill,

And given wholly

To ever single one of us.