So this is how it is ... and how it should be.
Other possibilities, potentialities do not exist.
This yearning, this bewilderment –
perfect for me. This suffering, this fear –
infinitely, intricately designed
and fashioned for me alone.
This life I’ve fallen into, this realm I'm
kicking around in – the perfect kiln for my pottery.
There’s no achieving heaven.
Renunciation is not about purification.
No one’s handing out gold stars.
Renunciation is about loosening the grip.
Worthiness is won through love
(more and more and still yet more), not effort.
O Lord! Everyone is shouting Your name
and no one knows Who You are!
It’s the not-knowing that entices us.
We’re sated with the known world.
We’re drawn to the interstices, the rends,
the darkness between stars. Who knows?
Maybe I’ve got it wrong. All my poems
are written about the things I do not know.
O child of God, stop squirming!
Detach; allow; concede; accept; surrender.