Sanctuary Lamp

 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.