Read Poems by
unrelated to time or space.
It has no color, weight or
form--nothing of substance
and yet always problematic.
Neither here nor gone away;
function and refusal never
Yet something essential is
present; knowing senses it.
It is nothing? The choice
is devastating. We ignore
it to our peril! For us...
for us!...it is everything.
It is spirit that embraces truth.
This is the reality that light affords.
This is the pyramid on which we labor.
Here is the base that holds our history.
This is the adventure we share.
When we catch the wonder of it,
that is the moment of awe.
Then it is that we may sweep away
the tangled cliche of sight,
of touch, of even art. And then
on some remote and quiet spirit shore
may finally encounter that
which now we seek, but be prepared...
For us, though we shall never part
in that blessed glory of finality,
more likely, we shall not.