When I lift up my heart to you in prayer

 

 

When I lift up my heart to you in prayer,

The lifting is not done by me but You.

No more can I lift up my heart to You

Than jump and stay airborne.

 

All power comes from You alone.

The illusion it’s my own is merely

Part of my distortion of reality,

Images that I churn out inside my head,

 

Preventing me from making out not only

Objects outside but also what’s going on

Inside of me. So too without seeing,

Or knowing, have I got used to accepting what

 

I cannot prove, going on hearsay, gut feel,

Guesswork, assumptions.

And if I cannot precisely

Grasp my own human reality,

 

How can I even hope to anywhere

Fathom the mystery that You are?

I must on my part accept, expecting nothing

In my experience of You except that

You seem unable to stop yourself

From pouring your Self out into my soul

And make your presence felt even

In and through and around the physicality

 

Of every pore, every living cell that You caress

As You wrap Your Spirit around them from inside out,

Holding me as lightly as breathing, flooding me tingling

With the gentle assurance of Your presence.

 

From states verses 120110/130131

 

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