Sandals at the Gate

IV. Of signs and their colors

Where is the sign,
O where? At this

Silent, still and lonely place

The wise old men
Are nothing more, nothing
More than haggard faces,
Haunted faces -

Bones
And sinews
carved by
Tears, hidden 'neath
The whispering of moments
Unredeemed.

The breathless, songless,
Ceaseless roar, and
The painted colors of
A thousand yesterdays
And a thousand more
Tomorrows and
Tomorrows, all
Still, waiting, longing;

And the beat of wings,
Sweet, tender, butterfly wings
Sends ripples across the surface
That unloose a thousand
Thousand tongues;

...And the child awakes
And walks
From 'neath the old, cold stair well;

...And reds and golds and greens
And mottled browns,
Hints of sand and shell,
And stone and bone,
Paint His sign in vibrant colors
On a little dreamer's canvas

And set sail across those moments -

Between then and now,
Between memory and anticipation,
Between death and life and life to come.

And the whole creation stills again,
Yet beneath the silence...
Peace.

technorati tags:poetry, cantos, spirituality