I am not a strong thinker,
And I confess an aversion to propositions.
My native apophaticism is due mostly to childishness,
Which, on occasion, rises to the silence of children
On Christmas morning, and the splendor of the first day
Of the summer holidays.
Gone for now, in this hospice,
Are the intellectualities of theory,
My ongoing denunciations of Bultmann, Ritschl,
And my codgerly debate with beloved Augustine.
They have faded, like the thick black band
Of a 45 on spindle, the arm gliding toward the end at center.
Silence, labored breath,
At the house of Mary and Martha, Lazarus.
But beyond the theories, above the Names,
Transcending the harmonic spheres and extended
Above the tines of Virtue that turn this quiet earth,
Is the bright darkness, the Friend Who presses
My heart, the center everywhere, circumference nowhere.
If You are Love, God, I need you, as a man in the tempest deep.
If You are Love, God, You are Person, for only persons can love.
If You are Person, God, You are Three,
For I have known Three of You in One, at every revelation, every time,
This time in the House at the edge of Time.
Father You ordained her in year and earth, hearth and heart
And called her, destined to the Day, athanatos, for the Son.
Jesus You fashioned her through the Law, for the Word,
Logos of wisdom, meaning, body and soul, star, spring and sand.
Spirit You breathed mystery, a flash of co-inherency at Dawn
In the secret womb, You comforted the sinner, the patient
Of this worldly infirmary, whispering, thundering truth beyond
Lyrics or musical convention, You gave life then, and for many then’s,
And all the then’s and the then’s of tomorrow, the Day …
And this “then,” at the Last Friendly House before the Unknown Lands.
O Most Holy Trinity, Friend of all our then’s,
You painted silver glass, ice, the dew of Hermes
Like argent cloisonné on this last day.
Slate rain, chromated branches,
Subdued green on the lawn,
Waiting, hushed,
For the Dawn of Spring,
The Breath on the waters,
The morning of the Son,
The Father’s Eden, once again, then,
Never end.
I am not a strong thinker,
But I can be a child
And pray this day.
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