Still, in One Peace

Fitting is it not that matters mounting,

with mystifying weight, find smaller place

and quieter voice beside waters of one’s heart, stilled?

***

Edges blunt as catalysts osmose, and color replaces frightened

monochromatic moods, all oozing

together in the panacea of grace.

***

I catch my breath long enough to taste air,

long forgotten and let the taste of quiet

fill my longing lungs with life, raw and real.

***

Here, there are no answers,

only better questions; hints of high above

where life grows smaller but clear, unified.

***

Lastly, I stretch legs, weary from

longer strides than meant for.

Here I am, still, in one peace.

 

Oh, that I might dwell in translucence,

opaque in wonder for what might yet come.

My soul whispers

those words I most long to hear:

come, and live.

 

For merely ingesting the sting of this,

the hope of that

is no guarantee of learning the good,

the acceptable,

the perfect.

Instead, let no other respite, nor peace askew

nor eye askance deter from the goal:

to will but one thing.

 

“Come, and live.”

 

 

Below is the universal symbol for Longing in Chinese, Japanese Kanji, and Korean Hanja

Where else should I be,

but in this sacred presence;

to find my way here?

 

Once you did find me,

a broken, tear-sodden wretch;

and still you loved me.

 

One thing I have seen,

an onomatopoeia

has brandished this scene.

 

Once upon a time,

there shines a glittering light,

then and now and then.

 

When night is falling

into day from night before,

day has truly come.

 

Feed me on your flesh,

nourish’d from still deeper veins

and my soul starves not.

 

Still strings vibrating,

filling the air with sad songs,

and still we’re singing.

 

I can see your face,

time and space interrupted…

Can you see my face?

 

Mystic reverie

of clouds, unknowingly, pass.

Entranced in longing.

 

Satisfied am I

in a Eucharistic haze

of understanding.