
No one knew the name of
this day;
Born quietly from deepest
night,
It hid its face in light,
Demanded nothing for
itself,
Opened out to offer each of
us
.
A field of brightness that
traveled ahead,
Providing in time, ground
to hold our footsteps
And the light of thought to
show the way.
The mind of the day draws
no attention;
It dwells within the
silence with elegance
To create a space for all
our words,
Drawing us to listen inward
and outward.
We seldom notice how each
day is a holy place
Where the eucharist of the
ordinary happens,
Transforming our broken
fragments
Into an eternal continuity
that keeps us.
Somewhere in us a dignity
presides
That is more gracious than
the smallness
That fuels us with fear and
force,
A dignity that trusts the
form a day takes.
So at the end of this day,
we give thanks
For being betrothed to the
unknown
And for the secret work
Through which the mind of
the day
And wisdom of the soul become
one.
~ John O’Donohue ~
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