No one seems
to know, said Kieh Yu
(the madman of Chu),
how useful
it is to be useless.
But You have given some
in this intimate age a hint of that knowledge,
leaving them vertiginous, empty and ruined.
Reducing others to a flood of tears –
mooning over You for weeks
while the world rattles on without them.
Still others allowed a refuge
carved out inwardly, letting the waves break
soundlessly upon the deserted shore.
And there were those sanctified ones
who served You madly,
their every effort made useless
by the surrender of self,
their every dedicated outcome
determined solely by Your will and reign.
O child of God, pray your every poem one day
becomes a useless, holy endeavor.
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