Somewhere
in the
Kingdom
of God
there
is a
post
for you.
Live
and learn;
follow
and lead;
come
and go;
open
and close
the
doors to Moments
Life
invites you
to
enter,
and
be grateful
(In
fact, if there ever
were
a skill to develop –
a
sense to fashion
keener
than the rest –
it
would be
that
of gratitude.).
Close
the door
if
you plan
to
stay in a moment,
to
make it a forever
or
a season
or
a vacation
from
Normal;
close
the door
when
you leave.
Let
your spirit
not
linger there,
in
Moments passed.
You
will always
get
somewhere, just
keep
on going.
That
post for which
the
Lord interviewed you
may
not be your destination.
There
are the called,
as
they say,
and
there are the chosen.
Even
the eternal
wanderer
who seems
to
have no post
whatever
carves,
from the
tremendous
pace of sunlight,
a
space with the blade
of
his very being.
His
and a cathedral's
shadow
result from
the
same phenomenon:
equal
labor and industry;
equal
symbolism, sacredness,
vastness;
equal
beauty;
the
same hands sculpted
both
the beggar and the throne
of
the very king he might have
been
in a past life,
the
same society lifted him
into
palaces
as
now forces him
to
repose in an Eden
behind
the veil of poverty:
should
he find it,
he
will profit the boon
of
the rarest mortals.
The
kingdom
may
pass through
the
gates of his bones,
but
in this life
it
is but a cruel metaphor:
a
cold wind both trembles
and
troubles him,
ironically
fortifying
the
stalk of his spirit.
He
may have beheaded
Emperors
with a single breath
lifetimes
ago,
as
with a single breath
the
final iota of
Will
will flee
the
labrynth of forces
binding
flesh to soil
or
Adam to Eve
or
atom to atom
until
all of humanity
is
riddled with wormholes
decomposing
on a special rock
somewhere
in the universe.
And
the Universe
will
eventually tire,
as
each of us already has.
And
she will have to sleep
for
another eternity
if
we are ever to be
dreamt
up again.
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