I’m not a pilgrim,
apparently.
I’m a jewel encased in stone.
Not in transit, but in
attrition
from accoutrements to
essence.
There are no way stations,
only stages,
the destination under my bulk.
Nowhere to go but to the Lord
Who is everywhere and already
with me.
Nothing to do but do as I’m
told,
not in words but by
circumstance.
My life has only the meaning
I give it
and when I reach the truth I
apparently am,
my life will have no meaning
at all – like God,
which is Who I am and all of
this, too.
O child of God, keep trying
to put it into words –
the impossible task your
Beloved has granted you.
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