The realm of God will be like this.
           Ten bridesmaids took their lamps
           and went to meet the bridegroom.
                         —Matthew 25.1

It’s not a test, not a sentencing.
It’s a party.
It’s not campaigners nervously watching returns.
It’s a wedding.
A celebration of love,
a joy that gives us joy,
a faithfulness that involves
the whole village of us.
Those who expect gloom, or an end,
will be surprised.
But no matter how much oil you have
the lovers will join—
God and us—
and the party will go on.
The musicians are warming up.
Even as darkness gathers,
turn your face toward joy.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light www.unfoldinglight.net
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The fallen trunk rests gracefully
bent over grass and its own
surrendered branches.
Empty-handed now, it waits
for sun and rain and bugs to do their will.
Some critters make their home
among its ruins, scattering seeds.
Along its bottom edge a fungus furls
with feathered wings as if to fly.
A colony of more resplendent ones,
yellow, and with hats,
parades along its flank like awkward teens,
while yet another band atop the bark
crane their necks like explorers
peering into the new world.
And underneath, unseen,
a million worms and microbes
chew on death and make it life.
There’s no way I can sit here long enough—
the thousand years—
so see what this tree is becoming,
but only long enough to hear it ask:
“Little one, are you strong enough to die?”t

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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Before there was to be a beginning
there had to be a time for it.
Who knows how long,
that abyss of longing?
And then when Your longing deepened to fullness,
having made a time for it,
You made a space for an Other,
and having nothing beyond Yourself
with which to make a space
You made space in Yourself,
an absence making room for us,
which we complain about bitterly,
not understanding that the absence
is what allows us,
and which in fact,
if we so dare to make a space in ourselves—
thus, like you, becoming both less and more—
we enter into, which we call prayer,
and perhaps even faith, or at least love:
to make room in ourselves for another.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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In winter the buds hugged themselves
to the twigs.
In spring they opened their arms
to the light.
Through summer winds they clung
to their branches.
In fall they threw themselves
into the air.
Now, embracing the ground, they murmur,
“This, too.”

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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           When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them;
           but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps.
                         —Matthew 25.3-4


You who wait for the Bridegroom of Peace,
who wait for the Feast of Justice
late into the night,
bring extra oil for your lamps.
The wait will be long.
Don’t be tempted by the promise of “soon.”
Don’t be tricked by your impatience.
Light will fade,
evening’s vine will grow up around you,
the sheet of night pulled up over you,
and the wait will go on.
                                           Bring oil,
and go on. Keep your lamp trimmed,
your little lamp of hope,
little flame of trust and goodwill.
The night will be long,
rumors will precede the bridegroom
yet the bridegroom will not come,
and you will tire.
But do not fall to either sleep or despair.
Love is changing the world,
but you will not see it for a long time.
Let your oil be plentiful enough to last and to share.
No matter how long it takes, keep the flame.
Illumine the little circle where you are.
Light the way.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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The quiet of the ocean
is not the dampened sound
of everything being far away

but the silence everything has come from
but not far, no, not far, the silence

of the sea still in us,

the quiet of the beginning
before the first word,
only the presence, not the word,

the primordial still holding us,
the darkness still giving birth,
the tide in our veins,

surging quietly,
that all our sounds go into
and rest at the bottom,

noiselessly becoming eternity,
the quiet not of death
but of being held.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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The quiet of the mountain top
is not the muteness
of having been taken from the world,

but the quiet of all of it, gathered:
the embrace of sky and horizon,
the murmuring of cities and rivers below,

the world and all its little stories,
the ages and generations,
the wars and tender moments,

all you look down on,
seen and unseen,
and what you have left

and your climbing,
all gathered together
in the quietness of this gaze,

the gaze of God,
who does not think or judge,
but loves without words.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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The quiet of the desert
isn’t harsh or punishing,
not lonely or lacking, but pure,

the quiet of everything to be said
having been said
and now there is the sitting with it,

the quiet of stones and their stories,
and even the storms, who bear witness
without words, and then pass,

the quiet when all has been sanded away,
the removal of everything but this,
and the presence that fills the silence

with silence, the stillness of this,
and its being enough,
as are you.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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Woods

The quiet of the woods
is not your regular quiet,
not empty-room quiet,

but a full quiet, still to the brim,
quiet held in soil grown over ages,
filtered by leaves and feathers,

a quiet fermented by eons of rain,
the quiet of birdcall and snowfall
and snowmelt and sun,

a stillness shielded by trees
even whose young ones
are older and wiser than we,

whose roots silently ponder
what is below, and know
without saying,

a quiet held in the owl’s gaze,
who sees your quietness
which flourishes within you

hugely, agelessly,
growing in you
as silently as a mushroom.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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           The greatest among you will be your servant.
           All who exalt themselves will be humbled,
           and all who humble themselves will be exalted.
                         —Matthew 23.11-12


The worse you feel about yourself
           the more you need to be encouraged, right?
Those who seek greatness
           are starving for themselves.

But the Beloved died
           humbly pouring himself out.
One can be no greater
           than to serve beside him.


The less your opponent listens,
           the louder you shout, right?
Those who exalt themselves
           are only trying to convince themselves.

But a much quieter voice, truthful, absolute,
           has spoken calmly: You are worthy.
No need to say more.
           The rose unfolds, at peace in its unfolding.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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