It is Advent and I am making bread ingredients already at hand one free mind, one open heart, one body, sensing

I know how to knead them how to await, in the stillness, in the dark and allow these three their unknowing

Expectation in repose silence from the whole of my being      Then I light a fire in the darkness.

Here now, sweat and blood the active and contemplative virgins The bread of ‘I’.

Awaiting the fullness of time even as the fullness of time, early lately swells my womb.

The birth of the word in the soul some inner body, borning, forming eating holy, finer things

I am, unmade and made all at once in this present darkness   A spark that leaps!

It is Advent and water, flour, leaven then fire until I rises to break bread with the broken.

Andrew Breitenberg 12/1-8/2022