This mountain I climb,
does it feel my tiny, astonished footfalls?

This river I wade in, does it notice
what of me it carries to the sea?

The stars, they don’t have any idea, do they,
of my admiration?

The bee working the blossoms
doesn’t suspect, does it, my gaze akin to worship?

And you, are you aware of the Mighty One
stooping to adore you?

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
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