22(LXX) / Joshua Alan Sturgill
The Lord is my Shepherd,
I shall not rush.
He makes me to attend carefully
each arising insight.
He leads me to enjoy the Moonrise when no one else is watching;
He restores the broken parts of my mind.
He leads me in cooperation with natures high and low
for the sake of union with Him,
and though the winter is long, I observe the life
waiting in the roots of all things.
You, Lord, prepare the tea ceremony for me at a beautiful table
(a handmade table, unique among the worthless machine-made million).
You give me delight in growth, cleanliness and simplicity
— joy and the capacity for joy from the same Source.
Surely humility and preparation for a holy death
will be my vocation throughout my days
until this world is transfigured and becomes
(or is revealed as)
Your House from all the Ages
All poetry and supplementary material: copyright 2025 by Joshua Alan Sturgill. All rights reserved.
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