The myste
ry has always made it known
to be a secret that can only come
from keen belief in what the eyes cannot
behold because it is already felt
within. Therefore the rarity is such
that it is shared by a minority
of ordinary folks who do not flee
from being called or chosen. We
have all the means within our poverty
or wealth; it doesn’t take a lot of breath
or time-exacting toil to elevate
a weary world, if inch by inch is raised
until it lifts. There is no size or shape
or weight that will not in the vessel fit;
its make is flexible and customized
for every need, whatever creed or greed.
It gives what in the seeming opulence
is missed. It clings to coldness, empty nests,
to numb excess of futile quests, unrest
and does not leave as soon as just received.
It stays and tarries and proceeds to build
a bond between the blank and benefit
obtaining from the merest welcome hint.
For it is said it’s not we give but what
we share, the gift without the giver being
bare. Therre lies the silent awe-inspiring
truth that ever since was free and up
for grabs: we take our time; He waits, our God.
