spiritual language poetry & writings

the poet after being called to his vocation


I’m looking at you looking at me:
you’re looking at me looking at you –
until now, Beloved, how could I have known
that we are always in both worlds at once?

After I said, “I do,” Beloved, it wasn’t
a matter of the ring being placed
on my finger so much as me
stepping into the Ring.

It’s all so complicated, Beloved,
that I may forget…
Then again, it’s so simple
that I may be afraid.

I can’t contain myself! Quick!
Go fetch a cosmos!

… All right then, any threshold
will do, as long as through it –
forever without end, Beloved –
you come and go,
come and go.

Now only through your eyes, Beloved,
does my every expression have face value.
But had I not heard your voice saying,
“Mother and Father love you,
follow the Self-begotten Son,”
I would never have known that your
every train of thought was telepathic,
nor that I had arrived, finally, at my