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.