When there’s a queue outside the local soup kitchen, I think on consecrated mendicants with their begging bowls
When gang members show their signs, I think on the sacred mudra of holy men and women
When I come across street kids in hoodies, I think on the cowls of monks and nuns
When I behold hipsters with knotted hair, I think on ancient warriors
When I see raving dancers, I think on the trances of prophets and mystics
When I find only darkness, I think on a rising moon reflecting light from the Unconquered Sun
~BT Waldbillig
January 4, 2017