Along the way I stop to see
If I can find the why of me
The "who am I" that's deep inside
The real me that tries to hide
But out I peek so you can glimpse
Now and again, just by chance
The curtain slips, defenses down
And for a moment, there I am
The who, the how, the why of me
To all but God, a mystery.
Attending in readiness waiting
My soul meets yours,
Enter, Oh Holy Spirit,
Creation's Lord.
Tending in rapt devotion
Spirit's gentle touch --
Open as an infant's gaze
More insistent than any pain.
Open in steadiness attending
Creation's one and all,
Trusting Its wondrous tenderness.
Am I at least Its child?