The bosom of Abraham
It’s not about solving
the mystery anymore;
locking in the puzzle
pieces.
It seems now to be about
forbearance
(in lieu of utter
acceptance). About giving up.
An attempt to care no longer
for my self
for the sake of all the
other selves I do care for,
knowing all the while I
make my way just as they do –
alone . . . alone except
for our mutual Friend.
Towards the end of a life
of compulsions,
the one option that seems
open to me
is to disregard the
interior prods and pulls
and the exterior
promptings that trigger them
and to nestle myself,
such as I am,
into the bosom of my
particular Abraham.
O child of God, the
Friend who is guiding you
is the Friend who is
calling you home.
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