Here's an old poem that warrants a re-read... the deceptions of perceptions.
Where I Walk
Sing a thought. Rub your
fingers raw on the
strings
Theologize until you
go insane
Clouds and thick darkness
surround him
There is a space
That only His form can fill
But I cannot find Him in it
Work until you're weary and
find you can
complete nothing
What I want Him to be
what He is
I see His shape
His features are a mystery
Find me in my
emptiness
If He came would
He answer
would I understand
would we see each other
path of fire
path of consummation
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1 comment:
haunting expression of bitter-beautiful search for god/truth.
why can i not find him in the void?
why can't i recognize the one who is always there? when will this crumbling clay be consumed?
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