On Sunny Days

When you open your eyelids

to reveal the blue sea

that cascades as a waterfall

of shining grace,

the type I’m not sure 

our limited, fearful minds 

will ever quite know,

but illuminates, nonetheless,

the destitute and irreverent

just as equally 

as the holy and unadulterated,

I do have to wonder

is it not that you disregard the difference

but, more so, there is no difference to see.

Your eyes must not see in judgment,

contrary to what I was told.

Or, I have to suspect, 

you cannot judge

what has no end or beginning

between the sameness you see

and of yourself.