Drifting, the current carries me
No oar, no rudder
Surrendered to the flow
Destination lies over the horizon
Rest now, adventure awaits
Twilight, time between times
Sacred space
Stillness, surrender to the muted light
Listen, Wisdom whispers
Sophia is your lover
Spirit, link between
Flesh and intellect
Feeling, sensing, knowing
Interpreting groanings too deep for words
Time for speech is approaching
Time drags and stretches from tic to tic.
I never knew there were so many intervals between seconds.
Life lived in milliseconds.
Each hung like a bead on a bitter pasty rope of tepid metallic taffy.
Each one sucks and drains and moves in opposition to life.
Divided, cordoned off.
Source of torment and relief reside together.
Filling even the space between the milliseconds with activity and lethargy.
It is all the same.
Why? What? How? Where? When?
Some direction, something real is sought but not looked for.
This place is nowhere.
In between here and there, this and that.
No joy, no tears.
A place of unknowing, a place of undoing.
I am undone or am moving if at all towards that place.
My soul waits for something.
Some clue, some command to act or to refrain.
Neither come so I wait.
It is hardest during the nighttime.
Long shadows come but offer no comfort.
Remembering is not living. Life happens in the now, in the moment.
To remember is, or can be, to put back together, to gather together fragments of experience in search of meaning.
To remember can also be a seduction, a trap, an endless loop that goes nowhere, leaching life from the body, the Soul.
Remembering can be an addiction used to forestall the coming solitude. Replaying overdone vignettes, searching through the same old scraps for sustenance.
But solitude is the only path which leads to the answers for questions too deep for words. Who would join me here? If only for a moment, or a day.
In the desert be mindful of the gifts you give. Save, guard your heart’s impulses. In dry places generosity can quickly evaporate accomplishing nothing.
Wait for a one who also knows solitude. There the seeds of care will sprout and its roots reach down into the wet depth of life.