Merely Being Is a Miracle

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Merely being is a miracle.
Each is both aware and unaware.
Running underneath one's thoughts, a canticle
Repeats one's silent gratitude as prayer.
Yet life does not allow for much devotion,
Claustrophobic in its constant need.
Hunger puts the mind in constant motion,
Reckoning the harvest from the seed.
In ritual and art one finds a moment
Still enough to peer into the deep,
To see beneath the will the wonderment,
Music of such joy that one must weep.
As angels sing, so sing that you might hear
Silence that no mortal long can bear.