Carve me deeply.
Make of me a canyon
where your life moves.
Let it be known
God was here,
is here still
in this scoured place,
purified for genesis,
seeding creation,
cycling through seasons,
making all things
new by ancient forces:
one a cataclysmic undoing 
the other
a steady, slow polishing.

Shape me by the tenacity of your constancy.
I cannot know yet
what glory a canyon can hold
but I rise to kiss the sky,
bow boughs to the waters edge,
sink roots to drink from the source,
move in time
to an irresistible force
of alchemy
making of me
an ark of God.