Subtle energy,

A gift–to me from the ancestors.

My way of giving to others.

Not as the source,

But as a humble conduit.

I am minute,

A speck of something much larger.

Using the gentlest of touch

Or even none at all

Healing from the Divine passes.

Knowing energy–

Through the most mortal of hands.

Some call it evil,

The work of the devil,

But it is not, how could it be

When offered with love.

Perhaps its mystery scares them

Or perhaps it threatens their beliefs,

I do not know.

Such a strange twist of logic is this,

To dismiss something born of goodness

That can never harm.

If only all beliefs were as pure

And as in tune with nature as this.

Would not the world be a more peaceful, loving…

And less violent place.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~