There is never enough distance
Between the sun’s setting and its rising
For my soul to see its own light
Through the acts of compromising
That it comes upon in the heat of the battle
Of our separate journeys shining
In their glory
In their wakings
In their day.
What can I say of the struggle
Or the conflict that life seems to be?
How can I move to the center
From the edges
Where I seek to be free?
When will I find what is comfort
In the experience of solitary?
Where just being becomes
Both to play and to pray.
Like the angels and the animals
And the children and the saints;
They move quickly past the suffering
And the list of their complaints
That the thinking man and his troubled history
For himself and his neighbor paints
Because he believes the place where he is
Is his to stay.
Forgetting the will of the Father
That keeps all that is good for our use;
Intending to employ what is ignorance
As the basis of his excuse;
Not caring that in his persistence
He is hell bent by his choice of abuse
Instead of the meek and the humble
And the spiritual way.
That the God-man, the Savior, the Christ, the Ideal
Did purport to put forward
Both with love and with zeal
That the poor he might lift up
And the sick he might heal
If only they could hear
What He had to say.
In the dark and in the quiet
In the isolation of each heart
Where the prize is the intention
And the end is just the start
Where the distance from each other
Never leaves anyone apart
Despite no light, too much suffering
And umbrae.
2012.10.03.0900 ©