O Holy One,
what a confession that we cannot see
the miracle that is before our eyes.
We march to the drum of the dismissive voice:
“If you can see it, feel it, touch it—if it is located
anywhere in your small orbit of experience—
it is no sacred mystery.”
Miracles, we believe,
in secluded caves,
in the next town over;
and to other people:
to gurus and priests,
shamans and saints,
the gifted and great.
that even as we carry around
the entire universe in our bodies,
and in our luminous minds,
we look elsewhere for sacred revelation.
despite knowing that each carbon atom in our blood
and firing neuron in our brain
came from ancient stars,
somehow we can ignore our own radiance.
Shine upon us, now, O Holy One,
that we might see your light
among us, within us, and all around us.