written on 2 May 2021

darkness has settled
over the surface of the deep,
and the moon’s reflection blurs
as it rides the waves,
making its way to shore.

Spirit of God,
do You still move over the face of the waters,
stirring the seas with Your presence,
as You did in the beginning?

if You can hover over the oceans
and still them with Your breath,
if You can speak a word
to make the storm evaporate,
and with touch of Your fingers,
make the moon and the stars rise
in the night sky,

Spirit of God,
will you move over the surface
of the deep of my heart?

will You comfort me
when I feel as formless and void
as the earth was before You filled it
with vibrance and life?

will You move me
just as You moved over the waters,
shifting the boundaries of my thoughts,
and teaching me to abandon my own ways
so I can follow Yours
with reckless abandon?

oh Spirit of God,
Who is unafraid of the darkness,
will You bring the murky inner workings of my heart
into the light of Your presence?

will You murmur steady reassurances
to my crumbling soul
that You are here?

— that You are with me:
taking me apart
and putting me back together again?

will You let the sweet whisper
of Your breath
touch my face,
like the sun-soaked warmth of the wind
on a late-August afternoon?

oh God of the Mystery,
is the greatest mystery of all

that You take these shattered pieces
of a person I’ve become
and, simply by letting Your Spirit move in me,

transform them
into something Beautiful?