This morning do I dare
enter into that mystery
we call prayer
that’s not a thing
but a place
endowed with emptiness,
a fertile openness
where no lights glow,
no jewels glisten,
but only I sit and sit
and listen, and do not
know, but know,
a happening where
nothing happens,
sanctified by
its purity of absence,
spaciousness of the silence
whispered tenderly,
unfollowed by
anything to say
but only the rest
of the day?

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

May 3, 2021

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