a contemporary confession

you are the very source of my life
though you always remain invisible to eyes
with limited focus and incomprehensible to mind
leaping like a monkey lacking patience

i sit not still to carefully weave together

the available evidence for your being
ending at the end doubting you and failing to feel
your presence pleasing my heart, compelling conscience

i am rarely ready to choose your will and walk

in the path you choose as it winds through the dark
valley lacking fame for self and also deficient
with worldly wealth but in plenty is repeated failure

though you have always remained sufficient

for saints who cherished your presence; they learnt
the art of quiet mind and the heart that only houses
your throne, emptying the vessel they sailed calm

but i am growing like a plant bent and choked

by a crowded surrounding desperately turning
towards the life giving sun to shine on her body
to yield a few fold before drooping to die

i pray, hence, you stoop down to lift me up

to the realm of your regular presence, the grace
i may breathe in and breathe out, your life-giving
silver rays to make my limbs strong and stout