Saturday, August 1, 2015

The promise of me

The promise of me

I keep going back
to the elephant in the dark,

seeing deeply the universal tent
bedimmed and the elephant ubiquitous;

not as a revelation
but the truth of ignorance,

getting a whiff of it, seeing
my fingers blindly grope

while the promise of me
standing in some golden dawn

is just as false; this dark narrowness
cannot be relieved, escaped or removed

without destroying the tent,
the elephant and just who I am.

O child of God, darkness is not answered
by seeing through your fingers.

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