Sunday, November 25, 2012

The silence that calls us to wholeness

O God,

How do I address myself to you? You seem aloof, too subtle for this world that can be seen, touched, and quantified. If I imagine you, all I see is my own imagination. And yet, here I sit on this rolling planet, traveling in time and space. The universe is vast, and I am the product of endless cataclysms. My body is formed of stardust, the exhaust of an ancient super nova. I orbit the Sun in this rare garden paradise as my star swirls about a monster black hole, the darkness at the center of my galaxy. Who am I, but a complex and restless earthling? Somehow it is within me to ask, to wonder, to witness. It is within me to ask, who are you? And it is within me to answer, I am. I live in the crushing rock cycle. I wash away and find myself again in cycles of water and air, birth and death. Time will erase the memory of me, but you remain that which calls me into being. O God, you are the silence that calls us to wholeness.


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