In a single clap of thunder
I heard the angels hold concourse.
Speaking a myriad of tongues
they spoke meaning with a single syllable.
In the aftermath of silence,
as the rains dissolved me into a dew,
I stepped beyond my puddle
to join the rays that dry the land…
The lover carves himself into a feast,
to be dined on and reunited with his Friend.
His glory, then, is the ruddy glow
of his Beloved’s fattened cheeks!
Now I walk on gravel to soothe my feet,
and dry my hands in a running brook;
I look for warmth in the chill of dawn
and cool myself under a noon-day sun.
My peace is the heart of cities: honking, ringing, smoking.
Everywhere I look, the crowds are still.
Not a sound beneath all the vaults of heaven.
In this silence of prayer, all voices speak to me, screaming.
I find the living under the ground,
and corpses throughout the land.
The world as described to me makes no sense,
while the world I experience is indescribable.
Schools only empty me of knowledge;
in forgetting, I remember the important things.
Too serious and grave, I play the fool;
with a child’s heart, I see the meaning of it all.
The faster I move, the longer it takes to arrive;
in stillness, I visit every place at every moment.
I close my eyes to see, and plug my ears to hear:
I fast to train the palate and quench my thirst.
Now is time to throw away my pen,
and begin the real writing:
Let all contradictions twirl and blend:
There is only He.
I heard the angels hold concourse.
Speaking a myriad of tongues
they spoke meaning with a single syllable.
In the aftermath of silence,
as the rains dissolved me into a dew,
I stepped beyond my puddle
to join the rays that dry the land…
The lover carves himself into a feast,
to be dined on and reunited with his Friend.
His glory, then, is the ruddy glow
of his Beloved’s fattened cheeks!
Now I walk on gravel to soothe my feet,
and dry my hands in a running brook;
I look for warmth in the chill of dawn
and cool myself under a noon-day sun.
My peace is the heart of cities: honking, ringing, smoking.
Everywhere I look, the crowds are still.
Not a sound beneath all the vaults of heaven.
In this silence of prayer, all voices speak to me, screaming.
I find the living under the ground,
and corpses throughout the land.
The world as described to me makes no sense,
while the world I experience is indescribable.
Schools only empty me of knowledge;
in forgetting, I remember the important things.
Too serious and grave, I play the fool;
with a child’s heart, I see the meaning of it all.
The faster I move, the longer it takes to arrive;
in stillness, I visit every place at every moment.
I close my eyes to see, and plug my ears to hear:
I fast to train the palate and quench my thirst.
Now is time to throw away my pen,
and begin the real writing:
Let all contradictions twirl and blend:
There is only He.