Saturday, August 30, 2014

Dream house

Dream house

Each morning I build my dream house
on a narrow spit in the great blue sea,

a citadel rising and shining
along the length of the day.

Each night, the tide turns, invades the shore -
everything uprooted, pulled asunder

by the flooding waters.  I observe the ruination
and, with canny clarity, the prejudice

and error, the insularity and pride with which
I had stood sure-footed by the light of day.

Curled up and trembling in the dark,
from my heart's incontestable bottom,

I call Your name, Your name, Your name
until a light breaks over the horizon -

Your presence, a bulwark again the blows
of the overwhelming sea.

I arise on Your assurances, for another
morning prayer, another whole-hearted,

arduous day of labor upon the house of my dreams
upon that narrow spit in the great blue sea.

O child of God, doubt yourself and trust Meher.
Dissolution is opportunity; obliteration - absolution.


1 comment:

  1. Brian-- this poem moved me-- I really like your writing... (I can't comment about the other you posted because I didn't read it! The reasons having nothing to do with your poems, just how much I can take in at a time. ... )