Friday, May 25, 2007

Cloud of unknowing

small volcano in New Mexico with road to top
Shall I speak through fog or clearest light?
Where are you? I look and look and
despair of finding clear horizon, while
stars rise above smoke of destruction.

"I have finally found a way to live, . . .
         in the presence of the Lord."+
My words dissipate in fog all around.
You see me, but I don't know it.

Neither do you; I hoped you were there.
You heard, but you only played while
I climbed through deeper/higher consciousness
leaving you behind, a sad smile in cloud of unknowing.

I have always searched for Him, while
He probed the depths of all that I was,+
hoping for His glory, not knowing the greatness,
the wondrous grandeur of His joy in us

that I eventually found as He drew me near.
How do I tell of what only you must seek?
I can only point and hope you hear His call.
"I have finally found a place to live,"+ . . .

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