by Gideon Burton
How near, how present, closer than we knew,
a whisper's distance, intimate as air
inhaled, invisible and potent through
the swaths of hours, liquid, light, and rare
and drawing closer, closer as you pray
and pray and search and open every layer,
well past the patterned stupid stuff you say,
awaiting one who is already there,
not only next to you, but there inside
desire and pain and stumbling through the waste
and echoes, present as the dark collides,
the waters rise and night applies its paste.
How near to knowing, tasting what you seek
How reverent, patient, waiting, loving, meek.
Feel free to copy, imitate, remix, or redistribute this poem as long as you give proper acknowledgment of authorship. Photo: flickr - GrayBlueSkies
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