O God of life,
is this Patmos
. . . or Gethsemane?
Where are you, Gabriel?
Watch over me.
I need your balm
to meet the fury of resistance
with its deadly terrors;
yet, not terrors, but errors—
Walking through the flame
I know I am the same
individual being,
reflecting, living, seeing,
only the one experience all the time.
Being is knowing:
Because I am, I know.
All is light
reflected in calm
in widened sight
in quiet psalm.
O yes—
Gethsemane gives way
and with the day
all things are new
and Life—
not far away
but here—now.
