I love that my life is tenuous.
There is a comfort, a peace, in not knowing.
But it is different than the world's peace.
The world finds peace in things remaining the same.
I find peace in the winds that blow from the unseen place,
And carry me this way and that.
The world finds peace in the false belief that it can preserve its life.
I find peace in the fact that I've already died,
And that I no longer care to preserve my life,
But trust that it is preserved to spite
And perhaps because of my sacred wanderings.
My peace is like a river, always moving, always winding,
Never knowing when it may drop like Niagra Falls,
Or empty out into the ocean and cease to be a river at all,
But be absorbed into the Great Unfathomable Beyond.
And I wonder if I make the world feel nervous.
They do not like the thing that I've become.
For that reason, I do not stay in one place too long.
I am a squatter in the world.
And the world permits me to be
So long as I keep moving on, moving on.
And so far, I have not made enough of a ruckus
For world to cast me out into that eternal place.
And I am glad for that, because I love the world.
And I have a thing to say before I go.
And so, until then, my life is tenuous.
Thank God! I wouldn't have it any other way.
Matthew 8: 19-20
And one of the scribes came to Him and said, “Teacher, I will follow You wherever You go.”
Jesus replied, “Foxes have dens and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay His head.”