No Match
by Dick HolmesOriginal 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 >>
Recommended Books: Dick Holmes
![]() |
![]() |
|||
Recipes for Gratitude | A Moonlit Teahouse: Anthology of Sacred Poetry | |||