Untitled – 07/22/16

I have lifted my eyes to You,

to see what You are

and know what You have done.

I have seen You in the sky,

but that is not Your dwelling place.

I have seen You in the dust,

but that is only a trace of Your presence.

I have known You not in acts,

not in words

and not in miracles,

I have seen You in hearts

and felt You in embraces

and known You in between moments.

Like a timid, but tasteful artist,

You did not emblazon Your creation

with  Your name.

Your signature exists in the

smallest pieces of Your work,

hidden to those who do not seek You.

 

Your name itself is Love,

but more particularly,

it is Mercy,

it is Patience,

and Long Suffering.

It is slow to anger,

yet full of fiery passion.


You did not make a safe thing.

It is raw,

visceral and base.

Sharp, jagged edges,

frayed seams

and seemingly endlessly faulted,

until the light strikes it just right

and those faults become facets

of a master-cut gemstone,

burning from within

with living light.

 

Can the clay pot

ever truly know the potter?

I suppose in me You made

a higher thing.

Silent architect,

hidden life,

the consciousness before the singularity.

Somehow,

I have known You.

Who You are.

 

HG – 2016

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