Utter stillness
I have always adopted, in
this human dilemma,
the rational approach,
but, secretly, I long for
a love that makes no sense.
My every motive is
self-preservation,
while my heart’s wings
propel me, inexorably,
toward oblivion.
Let those royal falcons
build their nests
in the clefts and crags
of Your holy mountain.
I want only to throw
myself over the edge.
Let them haunt the rugged
peaks.
My fate is farther down
the slope,
where Your ocean swallows
me.
Below that rugged
exterior lie
the quiet disintegration
and utter stillness I crave.
O child of God, your
longing is romantic and self-serving.
When will you see
yourself as you really are?
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