Divine Dichotomy
There is a sword in every pilgrimage
to make of one a stoic
celebrated for the punishment of sense.
And beds of nails may well advance the soul,
extinguishing desire for one.
And yet another learns the agony of guilt.
The curriculum is anguish.
The diploma is despair.
Here is proffered the nobility of pain.
The graduated anima pristine
by virtue of its tears.
All this to nourish one perception of a prize?
For there is calculation here to dazzle sight
and blind the eye of faith,
while severed heads of enemies
then make us stumble on the path.
And we would elevate the quest
and call it sacrifice?
The gift of life is not reciprocal
unless the liberated heart will lift it up
as worthy of its own.
The prize unsought;
the goal beyond the roiling clouds of circumstance.
And then its jeweled crown is raised
above the heads of all,
and all are one.
~
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