Over the jasper walls
If this was paradise, I would want out --
over the jasper walls one night ...
or ducking back through the pearly gates.
If pleasure reigned, every heart's desire
quelled and answered, suffering eased,
death overcome, I would still want to know --
to know -- not the truth but, Who. Who.
I believe, anyway. I feel as much.
If everyone on earth were angels of mercy --
wore wings -- of kindness, generosity,
I would still be missing a stone,
an aching hole in the wholeness. O Lord,
must my wanderings take me back ...
all the way ... all the way ... beyond, beyond?
Beyond, beyond ... is that home? That unimaginable,
perfect silence and stillness before the journey began;
before the imaginary bits of Yourself were gathered
and scattered and pressed into service?
Reaching down into myself, I yield, probe and open --
What is the essence of this longing and Who,
o Lord, o Lord -- no names or descriptions --
Who is my Beloved? Who is my Beloved?
O child of God, let the tide of mystery within you
rise and swell ... then, inexorably, sweep you away.