There is a self, ancient and true,

Known by God and found in me and you.

It’s not the self as any role we play.

And it doesn’t align with what the world has to say.

It’s before any title or responsibility.

It’s absent an ego or any way we should be.

It’s never born and it never dies.

Its objective nature is immune to lies.

Like the shimmering light reflected on crystal,

There’s a holy depth to something so simple.

As we venture across to the sea’s other side,

As all those around us fret and hide,

As waves surround us and we feel swamped,

May our prayers remind us, may they be a prompt

To look to the One who’s asleep on the cushion,

There in the stern, on planks that are wooden.

Who says faith isn’t changing what’s outside.

It’s about trusting the One who controls the tide,

Transcending the illusions that divide,

For in that Heart we eternally abide.