No Matchby 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
at my imaginary form.
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|
|Recipes for Gratitude||A Moonlit Teahouse: Anthology of Sacred Poetry|