Looking for a little longer,
Or just one more time,
Even, a seemingly unintentional linger,
It all it takes.
To enter a moment where the heart takes over,
And leaves a mind where it should be parked,
In its tirade of needs and personal desire.
And we contemplate the scene for what it really is.
This glorious second gaze.
Always looking for a door,
The breadcrumbs for a path,
Which might lead to the unknown door,
As I wander aimlessly in dark woods.
Without a flashlight.
This unseen door,
Bedevils my thoughts,
As if the door is a destination,
Which it is not.
As I cannot remember any of the doors in my past.
So today, perhaps I may think differently.
Not using God’s words with my voice, but talking in one voice.
A voice which listens to God, but does not drown God out.
A voice which discerns what should be said.
A voice which determines how it should be said.
One voice, but not my voice alone.
God, lead me to lose my solo voice and become a duet with you.
Remembering is something of the past; an old cerebral practice.
Where I searched the banks of rivers since dry,
For the vessels and water which made up my journey.
Now, there is nothing left, but now.
Where the present is the presence of being,
And the past is a single move to an older present, not a remembrance.
So all is at peace in the strangeness of being at one with all.