“The little warm concrete faith in my hand”

Two hands on sunsut.

Overwhelmed by all
but underwhelmed by myself.

How do stress and wonder blend so cleanly
inside the same small minutes
every single day?

It’s enough force to crack the soul
like continental plates, grinding like my teeth.

So I go courting the Spirit
trying to make the magic moments
that already are:
the paradox of conscious effort.

But maybe that conflict is good,
to highlight the steady solids by contrast,
because in a corner of this epic drama
I feel the little warm concrete faith in my hand.

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One comment on ““The little warm concrete faith in my hand”

  1. I love this! I’ve been thinking so much about that blend of the mundane and the spiritual. Trying to figure out how to keep that higher perspective amid the routine. I just wrote about it on my blog too. (Although…I realize that’s one of the central purposes of life to figure that out, so it’s not like it’s a NEW train of thought…but I guess I’ve just been thinking about it more than usual lately! :)) But I like the way you brought out the truth that the two things aren’t really opposites. That there IS a solidness and a reality to the supposed “ephemeral”ness (??) of faith, too. So good!

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