Or, 'Before You Shame You with the Worst of You'
In Advent,
Oars in hand and
Bark at hand and
Oak oars gripped within my hands,
I peeled the Ocean back
I peeled the Ocean back
I peeled sea back
Until I thought
I saw Her face;
I saw as through a mist the sea as districts
, Chiseled borders in the ripples...
'Aha!
At last,
I see You.
I see myself.
I see You.
I see You.'
She moaned reply to me,
'Romantic fool:
What seems to you so easy is not
All that Is - not
What is to you as what you seem to see.'
(...Um, what?)
Sea spoke to lower sea,
And each spoke all to each in glimmers,
And each saw all of each as though two lovers,
...And only then I glimpsed a glimpse of Her;
I dropped the bone within the my mouth within the sea
And found a fullness in my folly in Her,
For the self itself is each a sea;
These oars I've held for so long so confidently
As though I were a Herculean king
Amid this gentle stream of me
Have hardly held my bark on what I call this Course,
Have hardly held my bark in neatness and predictability upon the glass.
-In fact, (says heart of hearts,) this isn't neatness, isn't glass:
Whispering currents deep within me
Whispering currents deep beyond me take my bark abroad,
And titan waves with glorious titan waves crash
All around me, for
The self itself is sea.
The Ocean showed Herself to us-
Unveiled in beauty, unsuspected freckles on Her thighs-
But Her native tongue is thunder.
-rick
