A
slow roast
I’m in a holding
pattern,
awaiting further
instructions.
I have rummaged my
way
through this
world’s various offerings
and what once
engaged me
is now but a
shadow play,
a Punch and Judy
show
before an unruly
crowd.
This spiritual
longing is a slow roast
and it’s no fun –
all my worldly desires
condensed into and
focused upon the One,
His Presence ever
near,
His sharp flame
gathered at the point
like the head of a
spear.
O child of God, no
need to flee the world –
let the world flee
from you.
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