---
title: "All of It Is True"
date: 2026-06-10
description: "A walk past every gate the worlds have built — Ganesha, Hekate, Èṣù, Inanna, Anubis, Odin, Raven — and the one ford you cross alone."
categories: ["Creative Writing", "Consciousness & Philosophy"]
tags: ["poetry", "mythology", "gods", "thresholds", "spirituality"]
url: /blog/all-of-it-is-true/
---

# All of It Is True

The universe rides within Ganesha's belly, near as your own pulse,  
and Hekate keeps the crossroads where the worlds touch and never merge.

Mahadeva is the ground of everything that is,  
and the Dreaming runs beneath the waking world like water under stone.  
The Tao moves like water and will not be named,  
and the eight million kami wait in the cedar, the boulder, the falling rain.

The Buddha opened his hand on Buddhas without number, on fields without end.

At the head of every road stands Èṣù, who must be greeted first,  
who opens the way or shuts it, and laughs either way.  
Papa Legba waits at the gate in his broken straw hat,  
and no prayer reaches the others until it has passed through him.

Inanna goes down through the seven gates, and at each one they take something from her,  
till she stands stripped before her sister and is hung on a hook in the dark.  
Across the Chinvat Bridge the souls go out,  
wide as a road for the kind, narrow as a knife's edge for the cruel.

Anubis kneels at the scale and weighs the heart against a feather,  
and Wepwawet, opener of ways, walks on ahead of the dead.  
The Morrígan washes the armor at the ford before the battle,  
and the man who sees her there already knows whose blood it is.

At the root of the world-tree Veles keeps the dark water,  
and Baba Yaga's hut turns on its bird-legs at the forest's edge, its door set against the road.

Odin walks Midgard as the stranger at your door,  
and Quetzalcoatl moves as the wind, the breath between the earth and the sky.  
Pele lays down new land where the fire meets the sea,  
and Raven breaks the box and lets the daylight loose across the water.

Nut arches her star-strewn body over the whole of the earth,  
swallows the sun at dusk and labors it back at dawn.

Jacob lays his head on a stone and sees the ladder,  
the messengers going up and coming down, the traffic of two worlds on a single rung.

And after the wind, after the earthquake, after the fire,  
there is the sound of a thin silence, and that is where the voice has been waiting.

All of it is true. None of it is the same.  
The gods do not melt together; each one stands at its own gate and turns its face toward you.

And the breath at the back of your throat is the one ford you cross alone,  
the crossing no god will make for you, the gate that was only ever yours.