Your hands forever extended, are never out of reach; I only fail to grasp them, When I forget what I would teach.
It is something like climbing a wall, This dimension we are given; Our progress simply measured by The degree to which we’re driven.
Sometimes I fail to remember How many times You’ve told me; When it feels as though I’m falling, You never cease to hold me.
Yet where You are part of every thought, And when I do this without trying, The peace of heart that floods me Must be the Angels crying.
Those tears of joy wash over me, How much of them are mine? It’s all one sea of sanctity Where together All Lights shine.
Remaining conscious of our Oneness, Is not the ego’s plan. It patiently resists this In every way it can.
Its bag of tricks is bottomless. It is one of our oldest “friends”, So familiar we think it IS us; On this pretense it depends.
Yet when we step out of that shadow, Which pretends to shield our eyes, In that loving warmth of greater truth Is the gift that we might realize
That Your hand is more than just support; It’s our own two hands as well, Where we remember there’s no difference, We awaken from the spell.