An old one speaks to me tonight... It may bless you too... that we may all become Sanctuary Lamps leading to the Presence of the One who is the Source of Light:
Sanctuary Lamp.
Tonight
in the long quiet
of moonless
midnight
I will sit
in the Holy Dark
of day done
weariness;
work behind me,
pain within me,
chaos around me.
I will just
sit,
and try to come
to the only
stillness
in which true knowing is
possible;
sitting past the storms
that rage
within and without
discovering,
discerning,
desiring,
I flounder
until my
distracted
eye is drawn
to you,
faint flickering
flame,
swinging serenely
in some tiny
blessed breeze.
Wondering at
your wavering
light,
last
struck from
resurrection
spark of long ago,
I will rest in
your gentle
ministry of
presence;
little lighthouse
for the storm-lost,
hearth fire
calling home
this weary
wanderer.
Your light,
playing
upon the
white washed
wall
of sacred silence,
describes
an
arc of grace
to be entered
only
barefoot
in burning bush
awe
and whispers
in the desert
places of my
ill-attentive soul
the name of the Love
you
guard,
solitary sentry
of the silent
hours,
and so
I will come
to attention
too.
Tonight
in the long quiet
of moonless
midnight
I will sit
in the Holy Dark
of night's deep
healing,
activity behind me,
healing within me,
quiet around me,
and led by your blessed
beacon
I pray I may
arrive at last to
storm eye
stillness,
in which the true knowing
is possible,
and become
myself,
again
and,
at last,
a
lamp
of
Presence.
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