Primary Wonder
Days pass when I forget the mystery.
Problems insoluable and problems offering their own
ignored solutions
jostle for my attention,
they crowd its antichamber
along with a host of diversions,
my courtiers, wearing their
colored clothes, caps and bells.
And then
once more the quiet mystery
Is present to me, the throng’s clamor
recedes: the mystery
that there is anything at all,
let alone cosmos, joy, memory, everything,
rather than void: and that, O LOrd,
Creator, Hallowed One, You still,
hour by hour sustain it.
Denise Levertov