blood and song
it was a small song
but written in blood and
timelessness.
it sang beyond itself
and sent ripples over
years
to those whose ears
yearned for the hearing…
and, in doing so,
you’ve dipped me in
wisdom
like candle wax
and i am sealed
and secure
waiting for a wick
so i might burn forever—
calming me with words
meant only for me
yet stretching to
the very sanctuary of
time,
where many like me
sit and sip and pine
for forever,
in moment by moment day
until in the brilliance
of light
wave after wave
they come
like an unfinished army
asking for robes and
white clothing
we stand on a precipice
waiting for a voice to
call us onward
yet the distance is ever
too far
for us to cover
so we wait,
for a face we’ve never
seen
to meet us
eye to eye
and thank us for a work
we never performed
and carry us
in youthful flight
into the light of early
morn,
rising like a phoenix in
the west!
and i, still in time,
(a little box,
a daily rhyme)
think on this and am
blessed
learning of a song rippling
over mine,
and better yet
a
touch of life
like
my desires set aflame
with
light
(rather
than the robbing darkness
in
which they live this night)
and
in some whispered moment
a
transport of utter mystery
carries
me away
to
shine on me a shadow
of
the light of the face
i
one day will see in life
and
kiss the feet of You
who
daily wash mine
and
celebrate that Love itself
has
conquered me through
blood
and song
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