The One, the Source, the Beginning.
Wild desire to create.
Life-force flowing out...diffusing Self into all forms.
And still there is In
And In is Am and In is Still.
Matter from thought.
It is Good.
Divine imagination into creation.
rising to the sweetness...
of the many faces of the Wild God,
Began to catch, and fence, and tame,
their perceived facet of expression
of the One, the Source, the Beginning.
Made to contain, to tame the Wild God.
To reassure the makers of boxes
that God is knowable,
that God is containable,
that God is controllable...
we only Do Life
in a certain Way.
My box exploded.
Splintering, shattering, shards of slow motion,
like fireworks of the soul.
Hands holding me...
And I fell.
A long, slow drop into the Wild Sea.
...Loose in the Wild Sea.
Bobbing on the swells, sometimes content just to be...
Sometimes fearful, thinking I would drown,
down, down, down in the Deep,
before realizing, remembering,
this Sea is Only God.
I could drown in God and still be all right.
Better than all right.
When I came to shore,
on Wild Earth,
and breathed in Wild Air,
I mourned the loss of my small god,
the comfort of my comfortable god,
the vanishment of my controllable god.
I was filled with terror...
of this Untamable...
the One, the Source, the Beginning.
(If anyone out there can tell me how to make a poem center in its space in this blogisphere world, it would be greatly helpful to hear from you. Thanks)