What is reverence? A formal posture in church such as kneeling, or something more? An attitude of mind, and heart? More than respect for God? Respect for others, and even the physical world around us?
Sacred earth. The sole footing on which we stand.
Like parrots perched, on a small ball we’re bound.
Human squabbling; killing, warring—to what gain?
Instead of recognizing we’re set on holy ground.
With large arrogance we strut our compact stage,
Playing to a stellar audience our fascinating drama.
Anyone watching? And who might be applauding?
Or is our selfish thriller more like comic opera?
The humble wisdom of the so-called primitive:
Acknowledging a debt to Mother Nature’s sway.
A reverential stance imbued with keen awareness:
His fragile grasp of life’s resources for that day.
For reverence seeds from humility: man’s littleness
In the vast span of creation, and his impermanence,
Little more than chaff, to bloom and shrivel in such
Brief moment—all human pomp mere impertinence.
To admit our adopted childship of a Father God;
To orient ourselves as peripheral yet precious.
To hold within our hearts a thankful devotion
To Him, as above, beyond, yet homed within us.
We will not know peace until we cease to press,
To badly live as if the cosmos were our fiefdom.
We will not be full-filled until we stop grasping,
And cherish reverence, fair daughter of wisdom.