Dappled light on a blank page,
breeze sifting through pine boughs
faint as a whispered prayer
invite a spray of words
to fill these vacant lines —
an empty universe waiting
for stars and stones,
crustaceans and curlews,
waiting for the endless
bubbling up to begin
yet already longing
for a still point
within the hurtling.
When the Holy One commands us,
love me with your whole heart,
and with your whole being,
and with your whole strength,
doesn’t She also mean,
adore the pine tree whose shade you sit in
and worship the sun that feeds you?
Praise them worthily, She says,
and you will praise me.
Title from a poem by Rumi
The Kingdom of Enough 