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  • Tom

The Jewel

It cannot be seen

but is always here.

When all is burned.

Lost along the way.

Broken hearts

Fallen hopes.

Faded dreams.

Softened self

What remains.

What appears

It was here all along.

Hidden amongst the world of form

Behind the veil of distraction.

Beyond your story.

Between yes and no

Before right and wrong.

Hallowed ground.



The 100 Kiloton prize.

The jewel

The heart

The centre of you

In, but not of all this

Which gives orbit to all things.

The thousand flavours of freedom.



For you.


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One of my early Sufi teachers, Arifa Miller, in her youth, was a dancer with the Denishawn Dance company. Arifa introduced me to the Sacred Dance Guild and also to the poetry of Ruth St. Denis. Here

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