No Match

by Dick Holmes

Original Language English

Every day, it becomes
clearer and clearer to me,

one of the many self-inflated specks
in this vast, illusory universe,

that I'm no match for the hardened
thoughts that keep shaping me

to ego-driven order.
I'm soft stone, and what a mad sculptor

chisels away
at my imaginary form.

Divine Beloved,
loosen my grip on the tools

of self-serving attachment
so that I may hold on

to the hem of Your garment
and simply be myself in You.

-- from Recipes for Gratitude, by Dick Holmes

<<Previous Poem | More Poems by Dick Holmes | Next Poem >>

View All Poems by Dick Holmes

Recommended Books: Dick Holmes

Recipes for Gratitude A Moonlit Teahouse: Anthology of Sacred Poetry

No Match