There is an intimacy,
Which most have forgotten,
The aliveness of the every-day object.
The chair, the cup, the pen,
All have a Beingness in them.
Each object is speaking to us,
But we have lost our inner touch.
For one can only sense,
The God-essence in all,
When one becomes curious
Again, like a child to a ball.
For there is also an aliveness in you,
Know this, to be truer than true.
An Inner-Spirit,
Waiting to be felt,
Waiting to be lived.
Waiting for you,
So, you may re-discover,
The aliveness in every object too.
For there is a holiness,
In all you do see,
To again,
Become One with Life,
Is the true intimacy.

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