Holy Wonder
If you would
be holy;
begin
with wonder.
Go to
the edge
places,
where sky
and sea
meet,
kiss,
and yield
to
each other
their
horizon's touch
in shades
of blue
and green
and grey;
gifting you
with grace
to be lost in
awe;
loose at last
from
all your
wandering
thoughts.
If you would
be holy;
begin
with wonder.
Go to
the wild
places;
the untamed
lands,
where eden's
song
echoes still
between the rocks,
behind the trees,
beneath the waves,
in the sighing
of
the breeze;
there, hear again
the song of
longing
in your own
heart,
your part
in
creation's chorus,
as loud as
thunder,
as soft as snow
falling
on snow.
If you would
be holy;
begin
with wonder.
Go to
the slow
places
where
darkness
becomes
light
as day
emerges
from
dawn,
and dusk
from
day.
Sit with
the
gentle
shifting
of the
light,
see the
stability
of its
circadian
dance.
Watch
moonrises
and
sunsets,
set your
soul
aflame again
with
star fire,
entering deeply
into the
rainbowed
covenant
of dawn.
If you would
be holy;
begin
with wonder.
Go to
the ancient
places,
and there,
rest
in the
inner knowing
of your
youth;
however
old
you call
yourself,
tree
and stone
and sky
long lived
before you
and
will live long
after
you leave.
If you would
be holy;
begin
with wonder.
Go to
the inner
places
of your own
being;
bow down
before the
flame of
presence
dwelling
divinely
in your
soul.
Come
to the
knowing
of
your true name
within
the Name;
with each
breath
be breathed
into the
fullness
of
being
in awe,
in delight,
in the
graced
gratitude
of love.
If you would
be holy,
always
begin
with
wonder.
