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,
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