I have only just begun to know that I know nothing.
All of my theologies
are not God,
but only pretend, in their arrogance, to know God.

What does it mean
to begin to know that I do not know,
can never know
the limns and limits of a supreme being?

A god encompassed within my knowing
is no God at all.

What can I do? 
(This "I" that I do not always know)
How can this mysterious I pray?

How do I avoid the golden calf,
the tall white man nailed to the Roman cross
in Christian churches 
usurping the small -
almost certainly smaller than the usual now –
dark Palestinian Jew?

Ah, there is so much unknowing to accept.
How shall the unknown "I" worship the unknowable divine
without losing both?

I think I shall go walk in my garden,
spread mulch under the azaleas,
admire the upright daffodils and the drooping Lenten roses,
search, uselessly, too early, for signs of Solomon’s seal,
smell the spiked rosemary,
feel the fuzzy soft sage,
fill the wheelbarrow again,
mulch the walkway to the back garden,
with its stream and pond,
its shade and benches
its too rarely used yoga platform.
Then I will go up and check on Mom,
go to the store for sweet potatoes
to fix for dinner tonight
with the turkey breast Woody is frying.

I think I shall rest from knowing
and pray from doing.