Monday, January 16, 2012

Don't circle me

Don’t circle me
I’m a moth caught on fire. 
Don’t circle me.

I’m a moon whose silver is stolen
from a hidden sun.
Don’t circle me.

I’m not the proof.  I’m circumstantial evidence.
I’m a dancer who left the ritual

to circle a greater periphery,
to listen to a more distant tune.

The Maypole is back yonder.
Don’t circle me.

But, I can stand in the witness chair;
point to the One who made me like this.

I can reflect His gold-red majesty,
the raging furnace of His Being.

I can show the dirty hands that helped
roust Him up the hill to Calvary.

I can point to the Hub, again and again,
standing apart from the spinning crowd

and answer His beneficence
with all the grace, art and passion I can muster.

O child of God, Meher gives you the Light
no darkness can dispel.


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