The miracle is our delusion.
How the clear sky forgets herself
in a raindrop.
How the ocean gets lost
in a ripple.
How space imagines distances.
How 'here' longs for 'there.'
How the seamless nectar
of our one golden soul
dreams this 'I'
and feels alone.
O my dear, when wondrous night
with all its stars
enters your body
in a breath of prayer,
do not forget, do not forget
why the great descends
into the small:
so that flesh might sparkle
with thanksgiving.