OPENING WORDS
I believe the earth
exists, and
in each minim mote
of its dust the holy
glow of thy candle.
Thou
unknown I know,
thou spirit,
giver,
lover of making, of the
wrought letter,
wrought flower,
iron, deed, dream.
Dust of the earth,
help thou my
unbelief. Drift
gray become gold, in the beam of
vision. I believe with
doubt. I doubt and
interrupt my doubt with belief. Be,
beloved, threatened world.
Each minim
mote.
Not the poisonous
luminescence forced
out of its privacy,
The sacred lock of its cell
broken. No,
the ordinary glow
of common dust in ancient sunlight.
Be, that I may believe. Amen.
-Denise Levertov
Gladsome Lights 
I had to look up minim even though it surely meant tiny, saw that it was about a drop or one/sixtieth of a fluid dram.Sometime my belief does seem that small–not in God but when I question whether he’s still in control here in this hurting world. I like that “lover of making things.”
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