HomeUncategorizeda morning poem

In my dream
the God of Science bowed low
to the Great Mystery
laid down his crown in worship
to that which he does not know
can not know
not yet
or maybe ever
for how can you pin Creation’s
infinite blooming
to a microscope
how can you say
there are words even for the ineffable?
Even this precise long-fingered God
has a deeper Master.

And then he turned to me with his
terrible eyes.
I confessed.
Yes I have longed to Know
Yes I have longed to pin my heart
under the microscope and say
here is the crux of me
the limit of me
here is the I that I know.
Now I’ve reached the limit of myself.
His long finger uncurls
and points to that crux of heart
and peering inward I see
the dust of stars.

His eyes swirl with laughter.
Now is the time to know
the God of you that steps from the shadows.
Now is the time to know
there is no limit to the Mystery.

I fall tearing with laughter-joy
I kiss the feet of the Great Mystery
with my salty eyed sea
and I awake.

These are the words that I want to tell myself
every morning as the sun builds her light then
bursts over the ridge, over Pine Ridge, and falls
upon my eyes
(brilliant star yes I am awake)
these are the words I want to tell
the world of highway drivers and
school bus children and
Mexicans gathering to glean galax
from the hills
these are the words that I want to curl in the feet of pigeons
thrusting them into the air
fly gentle wings fly with this message
in paper boats floating down the river
in letters randomly sent from my mailbox
these are the words.
These are the words for which there are
no words.
These are the words that spread
through the magic of hands.
These are the words that only dream Gods speak.
These Gods of my sleep
These Gods of your sleep.
Good morning.


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