Sunday, September 17, 2017

Our guaranteed return

Our guaranteed return

The world’s a nothingness and God’s a myth,
Francis said.  You have shown me this.

You have shown me . . .
setting Francis to roam

the nothingness, singing
‘neath that boundless starry dome,

down the ages, echoing words
awaiting, awaiting the flood

of the Word of words; Francis lost,
a mote in a dust whorl, left behind

by the Reality to Which the myth alludes
and his sentence clearly viewed,

stretching out a billion years
(he estimates) to get his heart in tune,

ready to sing the Real song. 
O Francis, I am with you.  I am with you

on the dusty plain, ‘neath the bell jar dome,
waiting for the Lord to take us home.

O child of God, let the longing pierce your songs
with the sweetness of our guaranteed return.




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