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,
singing 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.
A billion years 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 spangled bell jar dome, singing,
singing and 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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