Unwritten rules
They keep scrupulously,
cupped hands, upturned faces,
the unspoken, written-down rules
of the One who came
not to teach but to awaken,
while the unwritten rules
slip into one ear and out the other;
their hearts like fire through a cheap hotel
or myrrh through a thurible;
they sift the gathered evidence
ashes in hands
while leaving undetected
the living voice that nudges
gently the lover; either practice
dangerous in the extreme
but with an intimacy in the latter,
an inwardness beyond the rattling bars,
in the long-sought-after Constant Companion.
O child of God, His voice is the deep one
your heart has been ever aching to hear.
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