A Contemplation: Without Words
Christ only wrote on sand,
By wind so quickly erased,
Nevertheless was not the universe
Thus changed?
The voice of the silence
From Himalayan pass,
Has it returned void,
Seemingly unexpressed?
Enveloping air, dear Old Sun’s gift,
Was its highest purpose life’s gaseous flux?
Not quite,
For as a vocal vehicle its zenith reached.
But woe is me,
Gulping graceless food!
With mindless unshaped thoughts,
Doubting the spoken meaning’s power
… can I know these once again?
Yes! Starting right here, starting right now!
I give my soul, my self, my heart, my mind
Through arm, hand, finger and pen, to You,
May you do too.
And then, when face to face we can
Partake of Brotherhood’s amazing Grace
The unspeakable joy we shall then know
Of this combining’s roudy voice!
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