It was the kind of cold and rainy afternoon that demands a log fire and many cups of tea.

One of my top discoveries of 2011 has been the poetry of Malcolm Guite, a poet, priest and singer-songwriter living in Cambridge. With his permission, I’m posting one of his sonnets here, part of a sequence for Advent. It seems silly for me to add any more words – if you love this as much as I do then go over to his blog where he generously shares many more profound and beautiful poems.

O Sapientia

I cannot think unless I have been thought,

Nor can I speak unless I have been spoken.

I cannot teach except as I am taught,

Or break the bread except as I am broken.

O Mind behind the mind through which I seek,

O Light within the light by which I see,

O Word beneath the words with which I speak,

O founding, unfound Wisdom, finding me,

O sounding Song whose depth is sounding me,

O Memory of time, reminding me,

My Ground of Being, always grounding me,

My Maker’s Bounding Line, defining me,

Come, hidden Wisdom, come with all you bring,

Come to me now, disguised as everything.

Malcolm Guite





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