We love our desires,
worship our wants,
covet lush parks where we can hide,
a lovely garden with no way out,
where serpents wrap themselves around us.

In the wilderness,
empty land stripped of cover,
the bones of our hunger are exposed.
Not a lush place where everything is given,
but sparse land where everything is questioned.
We pick our way through the canyons of fear,
along the dry riverbeds of our attachments,
the large stones of our desires.
Our hunger erodes.

Only when we collapse with no other option
do we know we are fed
by a different bread.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
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