26 May 2008


I suffer from an embarrassment of riches.

I toil under the labor of an untamed mind.

I wrest my soul from the cosmos each morning,

only to give it back each night,

beaten down by the burden of my own absorption.


I cannot escape the muttering.

I cannot hope for redemption.


It is both my prison, and my way out;

My discipline and my freedom.


I am crawling on my knees in the dark.

I am divorced from the general population.


I distract myself from time to time, a lover here, a dancer there,

But always I return to my front door, alone and in full.


Here I am awaiting myself in the foyer:

I hand myself a jasmine towel and a cup of tea.


I stride directly to my station without a sideways glance,

Passing the lure of bath and incense,


And once again I am confined to my lovely cage,

Head bent to task in thought and supplication,


Reflecting, enraptured, engaged,

And all bequeathed by God’s design.



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