Somehow by love

Somehow by love                                                                                      
 
My prayers have dwindled
into a tongue-tied silence,
 
knowing nothing of this world’s
(or my own soul’s) needs
 
while all praise of the Perfect One
seems a risible blandishment.
 
And what good is professing my love,
when I suffer it not nor can I discern what it is
 
and not knowing (with any intimacy or accuracy)
to Whom my love is directed?
 
There is a cloud of unknowing
(a mystic once wrote)
 
between the contemplative and God
which might only be pierced by love –
 
somehow by an effortless love, radiating
wordlessly from the human heart.
 
At some point, a hopeless effrontery it is
to approach Him in any other way.
 
O child of God, word upon word you pile up
to describe what you do not know.