When a saint shuts and opens his eyes,
it’s an involuntary bowing down
to the Lord of his heart;
his every breath a prayer;
his heartbeat a drumbeat,
his pulsing blood a trumpeting
of the Spirit’s emergence
from the tangle of muscle,
blood and bone of brain and body.
Involuntary, because a saint
determinations and judgments,
left behind faith itself, grasping
the hem of Reality and responding
the only way allowed him – annihilation
and – while in the body -- servitude;
bound by vows no longer
made in ignorance but, bound
deep in the body no longer his own,
to obeisance and praise,
to obeisance and praise, to obeisance
and praise to the boundless One.
O child of God, bow until bowing becomes
involuntary, intrinsic to your being.