Tuesday, January 6, 2015

a psalm

tell me, You,
with your hills and valleys
your deserts and difficult streams
what music is there
in these maddening machines
these serpentine silences
tell me, Secret i'm not
privy to, slogging through
my ventricles, what art
is in this artifice ? what
is the reason for facing
everything but your Face
i wait not patiently as-
well. i wait 
and in return i return 
and turn
and twist
and far off is a sea
where You spoke
and i wish to dream 
myself there
i sit i cry out i open
quiet quiets me
and i wait 

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