The Incomparable
It doesn’t quite hit the mark (say the Mystics)
to consider God’s creation as perfect.
It’s more like God’s creation is nonpareil –
a flowing, holy phenomenon appearing momentarily
through the aperture of individual consciousness.
The butterfly is not yesterday’s caterpillar.
Ashes are not last night’s fire. In the poet’s duality,
the Incomparable might be likened to a bird
on a limb admiring the play of light
upon its brightly-colored plumage.
O child of God, when will this self-enchantment end
and that mighty, imaginary bird take flight?
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