A poem written after Christian meditation — after 5 minutes of adoration in the chapel in Łagiewniki

It is late already, God.
Late in life
and late by the clocks…
well…
and God is waiting.

And the beauty flowing from Him,
flowing through the space of sound,
music, photography, nature,
through creation itself,
and sometimes even through yoga…

So what?

That God
and meditation in Him
are hope flowing
among the endless waves of oceans.

So what now, Sabina?

Sleep peacefully and gently,
rocking on a blue wave,
quiet as an emerald,
as a shadow,
as a shimmer,
as a secret,
as a sound without sound,
as a murmur without murmur or rustle…

As a shimmer,
as a soft blue rain,
as a hand,
as a whisper,
as a shore,
as a leaf,
as a wave,
as the sea,
as a drop,
as a tear,
as the sun,
as His touch…

As silence,
as a chime,
as a sound,
as night,
as shadow,
as a wave,
as a chime,
as a shadow,
as a ray,
as a cloud,
as a whisper,
as a fox running upward,
higher and higher still,
hop, far up there,
up into the sky,
into the heavens high above,
yet still closer,
a little farther, a little farther,
and farther, and farther…

Or maybe closer,
closer,
closer,
closer.

Here and there —
the sound of waves and waves, and waves, and waves,
and of a flowing drop of hope,
love, joy,
endurance and release,
abyss and space,
and joy flowing from darkness into freedom,
toward Paradise,
toward the West…

Or maybe toward the East?
I do not know…

Because what?
Nothing and nothing, and nothing.
And this sound,
and the murmur of waves,
and the singing of birds
like an earthly Paradise.

Give it to me here,
O sweet God,
in sorrow and in fear,
and maybe also in yoga…

In stillness,
in the breath flowing from the exhale,
from the inhale,
from the exhale…

From the land of seas,
like a gentle frost,
like a bird and like the wind,
like a murmur,
like rum,
like murmur and wine,
a blue sound and a chime,
like murmur and murmur, and murmur,
and whisper,
and rustle,
and echo,
and resonance,
and one, and two, and three —
for no reason at all…

Well, to the wind,
this very world,
and this very bird,
and this leaf,
and this Patryk,
and this sound,
and this inhale,
and this inhale,
and this whisper,
and this inhale,
and then the exhale…

What do You lack?
Well, probably nothing.
And nothing, and nothing, and nothing,
and nothing, and nothing, and nothing,
and nothing,
nothing,
and still nothing.

And that is how it should be.

Let hope endure,
and endure,
and endure,
and endure,
and endure.

Let love endure,
endure and endure.
Let love endure,
and endure,
and endure,
all the way to infinity,
all the way to sleep,
and sleep,
and sleep,
and sleep…

And there is nothing like Maranatha meditation,
Aramaic,
that is, Jesus-centered.

And strictly speaking —
this Maranatha
is like greeting the sun,
like a chime,
like a sound,
like a whisper,
like flight,
like harmony.

Oh…
how beautiful this world would be.

Because this is how the early Christians greeted one another.
And there was order,
and there was order,
and there was the world,
there was joy,
there was peace,
and there was calm,
there was harmony
and symphony…

Jesus was there.

And if it were not for Him,
the world would have fallen long ago.
It was on the edge.
Now there is this moment,
and hope only through His people.

Sometimes He gathers others
like fishermen into a boat…

And where is the harbor?

In eternity,
in joy,
in youth,
and in His love…

And where is the harbor?

In eternity
and in Heaven,
a good little mooring rope…

Only there are few fishermen.
Oh, few and fewer.

So let us get to work
and into the boat,
onto the wide waves,
he, he, he…

Because the future
is here and now.

La, la, la,
mydełko fa,
się na da,
tra la, la…

Let hope endure.

And how can one remain calm
before Your sight?

Because before You,
I can do nothing at all
except maybe go to the bistro,
for tomatoes on a stick
and an old but still cool dessert plate.

Well, that is something.

And may the World hear about Him.
Oh yes!