God’s tiny bowl

 

There is a part in me

that is empty,--

a hole, a pit,

It’s full of invisible pain, grief

and the shadows of lost love,

Disappointments, broken dreams

and sharp shards of memories

haunt the gloomy crater,

But it’s full of something else also,--

an urge, a force, a pull,

Like a magnet,

it sucks hope, belief and faith,

These are its little sunrays

to sustain its shadows, its shades

floating like dust motes in a sunbeam.

 

All of us have our holes,

our emptiness full of shadows,

But that’s our creative emptiness,

the genesis of our urge

to be something more.

 

We are God’s tiny bowls,

which He playfully tries to fill

in varying colors, shapes, cuisines

to muse over His own manifestation.