Breathing is the only way I know to pray...

When I search for you,
I do not find you.
.
Should I conclude
that you are no longer
present,
active,
alive.
.
Or is it simply
that I am looking
up and beyond and outside,
while you are present
below, before, and within.
.
They have taught me to look for you
on the mountain,
in the storm,
in happy prosperity,
and most of all,
in the sacred charade of the saints.
.
They have named you
Majestic,
Holy,
Powerful,
Sacred,
Other,
Supreme Judge of all that is.
.
But I am learning to find you
in the quiet darkness of my own heart,
in the mundane rhythm of daily life,
in the tearful hope of the damned,
and most of all,
in those rare undeveloped regions of the earth.
.
And I call you
quiet,
humble,
love,
peace,
Being itself,
the life and breath of all that is.
.
Quietly, I contemplate the divinity of being,
and the being of the divine.
.
Perhaps I have understood you most
when I stopped trying to believe
and focused instead on
simply
living,
breathing,
seeing,
feeling,
crying,
laughing,
touching and tasting and smelling.