Let us talk of things that matter

Too long, Lord, have I wandered after strangers,


I am not hidden, I am not dark to you

Shadows come and go, but I am not shadows,


You fled,

the bawdy songs and bright lights,

I waited and my patience was a monument in plain sight

but you did not know me.


Stranger, where do you pasture your sheep?


Ask the old ones, the quiet ones

You know them, their faces are familiar,

but still you dismissed them, in the frenetic

rush of unmastered energies

that unconscious presumption of youth

the fallacy,

whereby appearance is worshiped

at the expense of interior silences,

where noise is coveted and stillness despised,


I am ashamed of my illusions,

How often I was captivated by the empty displays

Teach me to let go of these false friends,


Gold is a patient practice, first there is the searching

the patient sorting through, the digging

then there is a gentle art whereby the true

is discerned in the midst of the fool,

then there is the forging, the shaping, the process

by which the shine is brought forth and crafted,

the glimmer and the smooth contours emerge,  


To learn the art, you must submit to the master

the one who has gone before

the sage, the elder


but you do not listen,

for the gentle Father does not raise his voice

and the tender Mother does not impose her will


you are much to old for discipline


Yes, I say Lord, yes, let yes permeate my heart

let it course through my veins,

let yes be the very breath in my lung,

the very beating of my heart,


Now, let us begin.