THE SHRINE

 

The shrine is always there.

It’s right before us,

in every moment.

We either enter or we don’t.

 

When we don’t

it is often because we find fault

with the entrance itself—

with the way the hinges hang,

or the voussoir curves,

or how the keystone hovers

heavy above our heads.

Or even how the light falls

suspiciously upon the threshold.

 

When we make the entrance

and our aversion to it

the reason for not entering,

our souls suffer for it

and the place of worship

we might have come to know

becomes, out of neglect,

a derelict dwelling,

an abandoned shanty.

 

Our own failings, more times than not,

are the entrance. To meet the Buddha

we must pass through them.