—God in Mystery—


Deep in darkness I cry for light —
cry for my fellow journeymen
to take my heart —
and smash it to pieces
on the wrapped wings of rocks
jutting from the mists
beyond the pier.

Why do we search?
Because something tantalizing
tastes blooming
walking towards us as we inhale
attempting possibility.
Though my feet bleed,
still I stand on salt
as if on clouds: time
whirling in my belly
like a forgotten dragon.
I am crying down there
because I forgot my people.

But this breaking away is
so forgiving —
only wiping away the memory
of pain. If I inhabit that,
I will find a rod that
refuses to bend.
Like the steel in my Father's spine —
porcupines that do not hug
without reason.

From the back of the car
I strain to get there.
Waves crash at my feet.
A guiding star pulls my heart
and I must follow.
I lower my head in shame —
following this bliss
means forgetting the past
that my relations constructed
for my future.
Who else knows my best way forward?

In this present moment
certain things seem real:
my breath;
the pulse of energetic body
like a shell flying around me
with knives and whirlwinds;
the purple of the air
and the sound
that is underneath all things and
cannot be heard.
In my insistence of Life
I do not know Who I am!
Jesus is a distant
partygoer from another
era. Mary moves
on cues more distant
than the nature spirit
I desire and deny.
Our own mythology
must bring us always
to the mystery —

which is the certainty of presence
and the blissful unknowing of perfecting
and the connectedness of all things.

What makes a miracle
is that which generates
Wonder —

Like me sitting
here on my bed
in this moment,
connecting to You,
reading these words,
in unimaginable Presence —

What has not Changed
since then/now/between us?
Is that God?

Oh Word of Words
that is
Nothingness, too?