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.