Did you know that it is coming to an end?
The good, the bad
It is coming to an end.
And it will all be consumed in fire,
All of your plans,
In beautiful, resplendent flames,
In preference to the thing you thought you wanted
But believed you could not have.
And if you can let it all go,
You may have it.
But you must,
Let it go, that is.
Otherwise, you'll burn hot
With the memory,
And prefer the burning
He Speaks On
That you can stop His mouth
But you can't.
His words cannot be capped
Like a jar full of grasshoppers.
He speaks on.
And if you are not listening,
Moving, stepping out upon the edge
Sooner or later
The life which once you found in part
And die within your stony hearts.
And then there is nothing left
But to memorize and to recite,
And pretend you are alive.
When you are not.
I am not at home here.
I keep thinking that I will turn the corner
And find it in someone, something, some place.
But my people are not of this world.
And so, I keep moving, searching,
Now and then thinking
That I have found the place
Where I can rest.
But inevitably, I discover
That there are places they cannot go.
And each friend finds, in course of time, his people,
He finds his place in the world
And settles down.
And two can't walk together
When one is called to stay
And another called to wander.
And so we part,
He to his congregation
And I to my solitude.
And to the world, I am alone.
And God alone knows that I am not.