Be Curious, my friend,
that rifts will not tend us,
letting absence pattern this blend,
as light flickers through details
of space and change,
so that borders between us
be intricate curtains, waving in beauty
with soft winds of time.
My enemy, be curious
that I might give you all of me
to be sacrificed in the fire of love
from which this hatred comes.
Be Curious, my child,
not to be fooled by endings.
That the distant moon
will stay a miracle,
that each thought and feeling,
each celebration of pain
and wasteland of joy
will keep the doors ajar
to who you truly are.
Curiosity, she is a fire of love
and the end of ignoring.
She is the conscious one,
the source of every sight,
that lets us remember
that holy care
in being aware.
She is the one
that burns out fear.
She is awakened.
She is here.
Georgi Y. Johnson.
