You are the artist,
your wise fingers working my clay
into a vessel, simple and perfect.
            I surrender to your touch,
            the pressure of your hands,
            the guiding of your eye,
                      and I am at peace.

You fill me with exquisite wine,
grown in beauty, crushed in pain,
given in deepest generosity.
            I open myself to your grace,
            your presence filling me,
            your beauty to my brim,
                      and I am at peace.

You are the thirsty gourmet
connoisseur of souls,
whose thirst is life.
            I let you raise me to your lips,
            your lips hidden in this world,
            and you empty me, eyes closed,
                      and I am at peace.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

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