I call out in my despair
And God responds,
I hear your prayer.
Every tear and every sob of grief
Becomes a radiant sapphire
In the golden crown of heaven.
I call out in my joy
And I hear God laughing.
Every psalm of praise,
Every breath of awe and wonder,
Becomes the hymn of a choir of angels.
Grief may come in the morning,
In the rising of the sun.
Joy may last through the night
In the arms of the crescent moon.
Despair and desire, grief and joy,
The piercing blast of the A ram's horn that is blown on the High Holidays to "wake us up" and call Jews to repentance. It is also said that its blast will herald the coming of the messiah.,
And the healing silence of the Sabbath.
All these are steps in the Sacred Dance
Of Lover and Beloved,
Of Parent and Child,
Of the World as it is,
And the World as it will become.
Blessed is the one who prays.
Blessed is the One who hears prayer.