Never imagined it as it manifested:
soaring in miseries, balanced, too sad to chuckle, too much evenness. It seems
what it looks like; it becomes an issue; it isn’t what it appears to be. Clouds deigning. Smoke guiding. Deserts
opening, and offering water. The camel might witness it, the donkey might speak
it, the lion might give honey.
To adore like destined … to ask
permission to see and sense and interrogate spirits—those eyes, I know them, I was
inside of them, laxed, took life for granted, and father baptized us.
Many rooms. Too many dungeons. Making
a happy face. In the moment is different than going through the motions.
I need to need more of what God
needs. Life is substitutions … at
times, early on, it was gratifying—before convolution, pearls in purple, rising
and falling, before The Great Absence.
We might race to fulfill the
calling, embrace the gift, asking for majesty; to need what we need, to desire
what we admire, to possess what might be goodness and dice.
Open the cacti, strike it with a
staff, remember to advertise God.
I might stand at the Promise,
unable to partake of the Promise.
I can’t speak it. I must speak it.
Raise the symbol.
