if I wanted to say everything
without saying everything?
Of what would I speak?
Would I speak of the singer?
Of the lover?
Of love?
Of madness?
Of God?
Of the sun?
Of being and becoming?
Who could carry the poetry,
be the very poem
that would carry the weight of the world
recite the ebb and flow of the universe?
The Word
which would merge all tongues?
The Word
which would merge all truths into a
single
meaning?
Where would I begin my search?
How many have tried that very task?
It seems as if we all
from first breath to last
have that insatiable urge to search and
scour
to answer the same question
not finding peace or solace
till we come upon it
and it seems even tho'
we might put false claims on it
ignore it
be convinced we're happy without
pursuing it
even die without finding
the answer,
the one answer
is recognized the same moment it is
found
It plucks at all our heartstrings.
It is unmistakable
like a long, lost friend.
How many times we've almost found
the end of our search
in the twinkling of a misty eye
a standing ovation
the clutch of a supporting hand.
Almost,
as fleeting as the wind
we felt it
as distinctly as a mother’s voice
the first embrace of separated friends
now rejoined
for an infinite moment
like the wind.
you hear the sound it makes,
but you do not know where it comes
from
or where it is going.
It is like that with everyone
who is born of the Spirit."