The smallest thing—
a branch, a twig,
a child’s untranslated cry,
a bird in the ribs of a parking garage,
the weight of your body—
any small thing might be a burning bush,
a divine murmur, an open door
to stumble through, a barbed lure
cast slyly from heaven, an offer
to behold what you would overlook
in the thundering cataract of the senses,
an invitation to fall
into the gaze of the One who looks out
from you into this world.
The flame of a candle, or an unlit candle,
or a place where a candle could have been once
holds the Word on the tip of its tongue.
The world within awaits your attention
before flooding into this one.
You need only attend,
make space, be still, and ponder.
Shed the words,
and stay in the gaze of the bloom or the stone,
where you slip through the eye of the moment
into eternity, through the silence
into what the silence is telling you.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net