Toward What Is Yet To Be

Epiphany slowly comes with growing light….
Days lengthen, imperceptibly…
As I walk slowly through the day,
In step with Nature, embracing something new
Encountered deeper down than known desire,
Reach beyond who and what I am
To what is yet to be…..
 
New mantra of the day:
“I do not know….”
Finally, I can say I do not know
What brings the Holy into present moment.
I know no words that bring a guarantee,
No prayer or incantation that sustains delight….
Should I take anything or nothing for granted?
Does the Holy come in-between?
 
Come and see….
Take the risk to leave behind all that’s safe.
Say goodbye to familiar and newly open eyes—
The path may be circuitous, the movement slow…
Discover patience and courage as the journey goes.
Occasionally, or steadily, I make no assumptions as
Gathering winds of doubt move certainty toward uncertainty—
Insisting that I blindly trust a way I may not see.
 
On walking into cold winter day
I walk by bare, old gracious oak,
Rooted in the Earth many years before my birth.
My love of Nature compels the hope
Around the edges of horizons of my death,
The oak will complete the dream of fully being,
Moving from seed through sprouting epiphany—
Rooted in Love strong within the Earth,
Kept warm by Love and Sun,
To know the fullness of its stature and its worth.

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