Your grandeur overwhelms me.
You lavish Your splendor,
Even on the ordinary,
Like grass upon the meadow,
And tears welling from the heart.

Where can I look that You are not?
Even the fallow field,
Awaits another day,
As a virgin in repose,
Seeing, in needful desire,
A time of promise and plenty.

You are written on our hearts.
We perceive You near,
Though hidden.
Terrible and tender,
You are unknowable,
Unless You give the means of knowing.

The universe though draped
In the garb of galactic might and majesty,
Does not know that it is.
Yet, the sentient child
Plays at Your side.

Men, too busy,
Brush by You on the street.
While the nursing babe
Finds You in steady supply.

Too grand!
Too glorious!
Blinded by the refulgence of Your sublimity,
I cover my eyes,
Yet peek with hope
To glimpse You passing.

In the mist of Your Mystery,
You are!
You are!
You are!

I know,
Because I am,
And You whisper and shout
Revealing,
I AM THAT I AM