I don’t offer up my prayers to God;
God offers them to me.
It’s like picking basil;
there are so many leaves,
offering themselves to me;
I won’t take them all,
but pluck the best.
My prayers don’t rise up to God
like incense; they are like
the aroma of basil rising up to me.
I savor it as I pick each leaf
and put it in a paper bag to dry.
After my morning prayers,
all day long,
my hands smell of sweet basil.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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