This Temporary Tension

Mystical poem dedicated to the Patriarch Abraham. Written 12-25-24. Happy New Year!

1.
I couldn’t quite hear that,
I just sort of caught a glimpse,
I think I felt something strange,
Just for a moment

Did you see that? Right there!
Outlines wavy and wandering,
Between one shadow and the next,
A wisp of a shape that changes

I can’t quite recall what was said,
But I know that it was quite horrid,
Little razor words that bite,
And sentences that bellow

But that one heard me,
That little ray of colored light,
That chuckled to itself in the smoke,
Even as I whispered

2.
What have I called up,
With my barbarous love poetry,
With prayer and fasting,
And what has called me?

As I stand with my feet,
Planted deep in the graves,
Of the unknown saints,
Who have come before me

My arms have turned hollow,
Reaching out to the red sky,
And smuggling in the stolen fire,
That will make me more 

Than a mournful kind of clown,
Dreaming in five dimensions,
Of a vast and Nameless City,
That sits upon the water

3.
Can we find the ways of wonder,
Hidden in the in-betweens, 
This temporary tension,
That makes it all make sense?

Shall we look to the dawning Sun,
That symbol made real and burning,
Like a log on the pyre of our aspirations,
Warming us and giving us light to see?

Why are we left with quiet questions,
When we lay in darkened rooms,
In soft beds with too many pillows,
And fresh fever burning us up?

Why, oh Beloved, must I wonder,
What You really want of me,
As I raise this heavy blade,
Filled with fear and trembling?