The hand that holds the moment,
The space into which life flows,
The eyes that see now and beyond.
Rest assured that the highest possible blessing
is unfolding.
A man searches his whole life for fullness.
A woman devotes her life to home.
Even if at the end they cry out for spirit,
The lack was never true.
Do you trust your own goals better than
the ordinary urge to live?
Come back to the ticking clock, the campfire, the day's mending.
Take only one step. Your heart knows the way.
The space into which life flows,
The eyes that see now and beyond.
Rest assured that the highest possible blessing
is unfolding.
A man searches his whole life for fullness.
A woman devotes her life to home.
Even if at the end they cry out for spirit,
The lack was never true.
Do you trust your own goals better than
the ordinary urge to live?
Come back to the ticking clock, the campfire, the day's mending.
Take only one step. Your heart knows the way.
The line, "Come back to the ticking clock.." reminded me of the time I stood in the doorway of my grandmother's bedroom, and listened to the slow ticking sound of the clock on her dresser. Her room was dark except for the sunlight that barely filtered through the yellowed window shades. And in the stillness, I felt as though the entire world had paused for a moment.
ReplyDeleteTo this day, 45 years later, whenever I hear the ticking of a clock, my whole body relaxes and I feel like a child again.
What a wonderful memory!
ReplyDelete