Let the spoon of life sit gently on my hand.
Show me the proper hold.
Guide my grasp so that I understand how to dip and scoop
The golden knowledge my mind and body yearns to behold
May not one drop be lost as it is brought to my lips
It is all so precious- the sweet, the bitter, the bold.
Might the flesh inhale the juices freely and without judgement
As it provides the energy and information for inspirations untold
Let it be clear that it is not the taste of discovery
But of remembering that brings comfort to my cradled heart
As it rejoins me with my soul
The stab of hunger’s loneliness never to return
As this source is ever replenishing and endless
Though its bounty can not be harvested, bought, or sold
Grace be upon me now, for now I know
That the spoon of life is always in front of me
And I promise as I grasp to never let go of its hold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem