Give us this day our daily bread (Lunchtime Contemplations)



 Give us this day our daily bread (Lunchtime Contemplations)

I study the Roti before me,
Scattered with flecks of bran,
Some darkened by the hot griddle,
The grooves and ridges of its surface,
A faint memory of the recent contact,
With the table and the rolling pin,
That stretched and shaped,
The cardinality of its essence,
And gave it the form that is before me.

A universe of million inflections,
A fabric of bran and flour,
Finitely locked in nuances,
Of the infiniteness of Space and Time,
And overflowing with goodness.
This essence of Energy,
Will nourish and strengthen me,
As I move on to do the will,
Of the one who provides for me.

Is your Love providence?
Is your providence divine?
I asked as a young spikelet,
Dancing in the summer sun,
Plucked on ripening,
And crushed by loud mills,
Into singular inexistence,
And measured into a measured existence,
Into someone or something else.

Pulverized into singularity,
The Earth, the Sun, the Rain and Sea,
Now a lost collective memory,
Of life fleeing to meet purpose,
And reason running to give life,
Leavening, kneading, proving,
And rising as one golden loaf,
In Life’s hot, passionate ovens,
Given by the Master to the mendicant,
who prays, “Give us this day our daily bread.”


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