We search in vain for man
in mortal history. Old/young,
birth/maturation/death
are mundane concepts;
deceptive, darkened fancies, which
are effaced by light-drenched actuality.
Man is not touched by turning earth
(time's corrosively persistent symbol);
a whirling sphere wields no inherent law
to circumscribe celestial man
on a relentless treadmill
of aging matter forms.
Eternity's immortal being
(ideafully meek)
is lost to sense in Life,
ageless in Christ,
where lightless human sense
cannot perceive true selfhood.
Poised at the zenith of dominion,
where no turning shadow hides,
man . . . has no stain of earth.
