1

I am beginning to see you
because I have stopped to open my
eyes
how often was I stumbling
fair is the morning and
fair is the night
no more wailing
i stood at the door a long
time weeping
and then wrote down the misery of
all that had been
how with pen and paper
to describe this life
everytime i try it melts
away like manna
i love you
i would
describe
you do inscribe such
sacred things in me
and silence me




2
now, at last i love you
and maybe even a little myself
now i begin to touch you and
can't tell anyone else
i whisper it
i know it
i knead it
you feed me,and touch me with such care
and where we are going
i cannot say

i thought i had stopped looking for you and long after i had stopped, i walked in, i sat down, i gave it a chance' the seeker never faltered, the star never stopped hanging
now after thirty years i am at the very beginning of beginning and while the darkness of the night is thinning to let in the day' in colg january grace i begin to find you finding me

i have decided, i have decided, i have...
i aven't decided anything
i am going to let you be and let me be and i am going to give in to the singing
at the end of the sighing, and the tearing apart of the sky there is rejoicing
there is this opening up
if i give myself to the music all the world''s been making, will i find you in the end
or will i find ou that we have always been finding each other?

God bless all here who are tired,
who are weary who are wintered
over, who do not think they will
make it through another day
bless the community of the
pimpld, the chaffed, the
unshaven and the thinned out
and gather them in where
all is gathered into one
give love to the one who
cannot go on any longer
and weakness to she who
is to strong
and to those broken down
a song
vimru
Amen

how long has it been since
you lay long beside me
how long has it been
since that length
inside me
how long must i wait,
how long must i love
and keep keep praying
over and over again
making songs of
lust'and of long...
longing

this is nothing like the terror in which i
conducted my old life, and yet i am still
half jumpy like the pulse of electric
through the wire, over things i cannot
tie together or control. do you ever
get tired of trying to manage the ri
vers o you soul and dam them up
before they spill over? over this
hill is the next day and i am
still trying to manage the week.
one voice gently says, if any
voice is saying anything:
peace

so you will cover me in water
and not in dogma
and you will lather me in oil
in hands like my own
and i iwll own this thing that
people tried to take from me
and i will carve you from my
own face'and we will
amek each other
this is the most frightful truth
andthis is the most freeing thing
and at the end of my quest is
the beginning of resting
in this bed
and in you
and the striving
the living
the so called dying
everything we screamed for was just a breath away

no, not to mount sinai, but to the bath,
and to the fever dream, to the moment
of silence where, long ago,
our first ancestro
met you, and bathing,
and washing and
living dicoveredthese
were the gifts
and this was the path
and chose to
followand if fllow him,
and a million
and then, i follow
my own soul, tonight with the
light of one
candle in this path.
the path away from the
wayness from myself
and to your house,
my heart
they are the same