For the Artist at the Start of Day

For the Artist at the Start of Day
 -John O'Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings

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.

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