A Day on the Struble

the water flows from light to dark

like city lights from night to dawn

their erratic cadence off and on

lest we forget the candle burn

buildings bloom upwards to their loft

beyond the clouds they sway and drift

like my faith, here, there...then gone

pondering Thou by the Guadalimar

with prayer I seek Thee here and far

falls, rocks and sunspot lit

penetrates a Monet slick drift

deep and shallow likewise meek

as for me I must walk on clay-bound feet

faithless weak for fear to pebble meet

a journeyman to the sea it flows

gathering life as it gently slows

where it begins somewhere north I know

from a Honey Brook farm hedgerow

beneath some stone in undergrowth

crooked and narrow like agéd steps

nights of sense and spirit spent

then too young I to self-abase

too young I was to uplift face

now an emptied soul I wait

to cut the hook of ego waste

we know...against the throes

the easy way I oft chose

I rest a knee upon the cliff

a watercourse is slippery

the edge misstepped

“Jesus Christ!” I shout

the echoed word shredding doubt

for most the name that I proclaim

an oath for hypocrites and blame

a place to spend Sunday morn

before the trumpet call to game

ne'er forgotten nor forsaken

saved I am by resurrection

I am humbled on each occasion

I grasp a glimpse of His divine nature

and subtle inward intervention

I lean against a tulip poplar

and hear the Holy Spirit whisper

in the voice of every living creature:

“Let it be for now we wait

for the chimes to ring from heaven's gate.”

each step I take unwinds the clock

a moment more, do I deserve?

I wait before the mirror door

a moment more, do I deserve?

because I am who I dream I am

I should harvest what I can

but no crop comes from a fallow field

though plowed and weathered there is no yield

only stones, and weeds, and pioneers

invasive thoughts from yesteryear

they mock me when His joy I feel

I do not understand

how He knows who I am

before I was, He knew me then

He lets me dream again, again

nothing more, nothing less

one more figment to be redressed

life's shortest length

is a life unspent

a mere fragment then denouement

most stories make no différence

I could have ascended the ladder steps

buoyed my ego from the pit

sown wildflowers from a windy cliff

rowed seaward against the current drift

and claimed the sea with a sleepy kiss

of this unused or never tested

of this so much more I missed...

Alas, I would not change

how the maple seed or mushroom spore

landed on the salty, sandy shore

if a lesser love had been my reward

I would not have changed a moment

even had I split an atom thrice

so be it then, I am contented

whose hand then will rewind

the last fashion of my time

as I fall seaward on the tide

my hands unfold to accept the prize

to know that love transcends all reason

so undeserved I know why

He gave His Son so I not die