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Mar 24, 2015

For the Artist at the Start of Day

May morning be astir with the harvest of night;

Your mind quickening to the eros of a new question,

Your eyes seduced by some unintended glimpse

That cut right through the surface to a source.


May this be a morning of innocent beginning,

When the gift within you slips clear

Of the sticky web of the personal

With its hurt and its hauntings,

And fixed fortress corners


A Morning when you become a pure vessel

For what wants to ascend from silence

May your imagination know
The grace of perfect danger,

To reach beyond imitation,
And the wheel of repetition

Deep into the call of all

The unfinished and unsolved


Until the veil of the unknown yields

And something original begins

To stir toward your senses

And grow stronger in your heart

In order to come to birth
In a clean line of form,

That claims from time

A rhythm not yet heard,

That calls space to
A different shape.

May it be its own force field

And dwell uniquely

Between the heart and the light

To surprise the hungry eye

By how deftly it fits

About its secret loss.


John O'Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings