Saturday, December 19, 2015

In the silent holy void

In the silent holy void                                                                              

Like mewing cats outside the fishmonger’s
door, lovers say Your name

knowing not how else to get to the nourishment,
warmth, fresh milk and bloody entrails.

Everything comes true in the end.
No need for disputation – two blind men

arguing over the color of the sky.
There’s profound wisdom in knowing

how profoundly ignorant I am;
truth coming near, I must depart

to let it manifest, light the world
except for the dark shape which is me

in the silent holy void where words fade,
lose their power to persuade or be persuaded.

To say how lovely it all is,
is to say too much.

O child of God, seal your lips about

those things of which you know so little.


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