Brick of Possibilities

Religion reminds one of a brick.
You take a fine, sturdy, dumb brick.
Paint it in your best hand, make that
Christ or Cross, Krishna or Kabir,
inscribe the entire Qur'an or Torah there,
or Siri Guru Granth Sahib of the Sikhs –
literally, it's all been done.

And it's still a brick, but what a brick!
If you paint on it that which binds you
with your most sincerely cherished Love,
then please do it, I'll weave garlands with you
and we'll place them there together.

Knowing that a brick is a brick,
we'll contemplate together and open our hearts
to what's creatively imaged into that brick;
knowing that as what was painted came from within,
so is the very Love and Source being depicted –
and the intimate Knowledge of That – entirely within,
to be merely, albeit strongly, reminded, directed there again.

But shall this be the brick of Cain or of Cathedral?
The brick of Egypt or of the Bridge which bonds us
in mutual sovereignty?

If it's to whack another in the chops or break windows
or be more bric-à-brac to keep you off-track –
then we have a problem, then a brick really is just a brick.

Let each have their brick most suitable or exchange them –
you can't exchange the Self anyway, there is only one of That.
Yes, a brick's a brick – but oh, what a fine looking brick indeed!