Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs in the realm of heaven.
I humbly confess my riches,
illusory as they are,
to which I cling:
that I am right,
that I am acceptable, or ought to be,
that I have reason to be beloved,
or to be abandoned.
I have hoarded worthiness
I have kept account.
I am sorry, and I renounce
my whole account,
and all to which I cling.
I repent of the wealth
of what I think and what I fear
and what I want.
O I am truly poor; I have nothing
but this one breath, and its release,
and my openness to you.
Bereft as air, I await
the song of your grace
to fill me, bless me, redeem me.
Keep me free,
and sustain my blessed poverty,
an open hand,
reaching out in this present moment,
to your open hand.