To all the saints who went before us, upon whom’s backs we stand like circus arcrobats.

Reading the old monks, martyrs, mystics and saints who made maps for us all today. Being thankful for those who went before us, but also decided to leave a map of how to live well.

Had to write a poem in honor of those cartographers of the soul, who left us maps to know by:

Reading the old monks daily meditations:

They were making maps, these monks

Into an inner space where we knew ourselves and one another better

(that is, in Love)

.

Silence was the door, for them to find their tones of lines on the map

they were making for us;

but the noise of banquet was inside and implied by their lines–

Confetti and grief, suffering and relief,

where life might lead us to.

Once we GPS-ed the map, we all wanted to go

To the great party within-

To dance and suffer well together!

My Friend.

Thanks for those cartographers of the soul

And, for the maps they left us to know by.