Work

 

God finds it hard to say,

"Let there be light"

without your eyes.

Your work of Glory

is the play of your flesh.

Your hand at the honey spoon.

Or smoothing the horse's

wet pelt down.

And of course your 

palm pressed here, in mine.  

Now get busy shining 

through every atom.

Didn't you know?

A single photon in your 

finger bone contains 

the whole sun.

A quark of darkness

in your little toe

encircles the Milky Way.

Knowledge is not enough.

Your body must undulate

like a flame.

Don't try to understand.

Just be a solar storm

arriving at midnight.

Painting by Reza Badrossama