I’m still. I make no sound. I close my eyes
and hear the breath of prayer arrive, depart,
return in flow and pulse of soft reprise.
It’s then I feel the inner changes start.
My thoughts escape the way the water flows
between my fingers when I bow to drink
from spring-fed streams –it touches lips, then goes.
Into a warm and open space I sink
as if, after miles, I’m home at last.
I am embraced. By scent. By light. By sound.
By something always close but never grasped.
A thing within, around, in which I’m found.
Open, quiet, I receive no gift divine,
but grow aware of what’s already mine.