![](https://ecstaticxchange.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/04/blog-galaxies-rose-324x190.jpg)
What Resists Illusion
The sorcerer commanded the snowman but the snowman kept on melting The swan remembered its ugly duckling childhood and shook i…
If all my poems seem to end up in the
same place it’s because I
also want to end up there
grateful to God and
showered by the bliss of His Face
Starting from a shadow say cast by an
alleyway in Chinatown on a dark
Wednesday or off a ship say in Nova Scotia
smelling of codfish and sea brine or
landing in Rome hoping to visit the
languorous green vineyards of Tuscany
but moving forward in the time left to us
which might be decades or ten seconds only
each footstep a compass point pinpoint on our
still unrolling map with its
expectancies and definite concisions
leaving some slack time or clenching it
tighter for God’s own utterly precise
pinpointed compass pointing
to which we can only happily concede
always going with His sweet Will and
little of our own with eyes open and
His name and deep destination
always on our lips heart and soul
or when we suddenly remember having
momentarily dreamed our little life away
to get back to it
with forward lunge and straight shot
heading out both heart and soul to seek
His fortune and its plenitudes and
none of our own or only
as much of “our own” as will
help in the project
to get us there
8/24/11 24 Ramadan (from Ramadan is Burnished Sunlight)
Categories: Poems, Ramadan / 'Eid, Death, Fasting