The meaning has become obscure.

Repeatition

Over centuries.

Til the words are remembered

But in remebering are forgotten.

God is not a name.

It is a place holder.

To contemplate the name of god

Is to contemplate holiness.

The name cannot be spoken

It is written on the earth.

In the greening of the leaves in spring.

In the exuberance of flowers after the long winter.

In the too much of July.

Found in the shade of the maple tree.

Generous and abundant.

In the singing of the birds.

In the softening of the fall

And the harvest

In the first bite of the apple.

Careful what you wish for.

In the way the leaf floats off the tree

A promise,

In the snow that comes to paint the world anew.

It is in the changing of the tide.

It is the longing you feel to be held

To be known.

To be called by your real name.

It is the presence that never speaks to you

But makes itself known.