Beloved,
you change the water of my life
into the wine of your touch,
if only I taste.
What was plain becomes mystery.
The cup of want
becomes jugs of abundance,
a lifetime.
The jars of obligation,
the pots of my attempts,
my hope of being acceptable,
my rite of shame and inadequacy,
you fill with delight instead.
Beloved, I see now—
this wedding must be mine__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Service Art
Image 1: taken from Table talk website
Image 2: taken from St. Mary and St. Martha images
