It’s a baffling work to know what to do,
Even know what you now see in the world—
Objects that are stone cold sober and real
Yet deeply burn with love and mercy for an entire cosmos,
Most of which I neither see or feel.
I am blind. No wonder I want to see….
What is out there I only glimpse
With eyes of an animal, for I can merely
Take a child and teach her to gaze
Not upon a world that is wondrously wild
But measured and still unknown.
I want to do more. God knows I want so much more….
Who sees a garden without looking for flowers?
Who sees the magical space which holds flowers
That endlessly open and offer
Fragrance freely given with such amazing grace?
Sometimes I awake and I am there, always alone…
When I am there, I have no voice,
Cannot find words even as I feel the wind.
Speak to me. I want to hear.
I’ve sensed your whisper touch me,
But always I want more.
Speak to me. I will be here, listening.
Let me find the meeting in the hidden place,
Learn the mystic wisdom imparted in silence,
Always within that holy space….