Contemplating Kierkegaard
I too believe
Flowers have more purposes than the bringing of fruit
So that all of me is not known
Though dig to the bedrock of my root
And I have feared that I shall go away
Before the golden fleece
Of many colors set me laughing at sun, moon and stars
And ever walked between the morning and the evening
Avoiding Martha's doubt
And the tears
From the depth of veiled despair
It is not evening etherized here
But common dust
When every atom is built by faith
I am sick today
And was sick yesterday
And again they brought me
To the gate Beautiful
After he was swallowed in the clouds
Yet I did not wait like Lazarus
For I too
Can be sick unto death
With these two voyagers:
Goodness and mercy
On eagle's wings and loaded with sunshine
Piloting me.
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