“Somewhere Deep”


“Somewhere Deep”

Somewhere deep within memory before my superstitions
I knew the sovereignties of my person, the inmates of my mind,
And in this an anointing from every other station, earthly and divine.
In the beginning, ever as the boy came to his fruition,
This he knew as he had stood there, a single draught of light in his right hand.
That star appeared first within him, then his eyes, and then at Bethlehem—a sign,
The promised Great Announcement—to some few shepherds and divines,
Truths that only they perceived, as oddly as did I. Written in the sand,
The boy so soon to be a man, so early recreated there to read, a wondrous page
Illumined. How, then, could it be that no witness sighed,
No movement otherwise was seen in others since that first night’s spawning sky;
I owned within me every star and blessing that the moon possessed; an Age,
Both Question and perspicuous Answer, Interpretation even before the Dream
And yet never once craved confirmation nor entertained the thought to flee?


2 responses to ““Somewhere Deep”

  1. I see you weaving here the Christmas story into the “essence” of the child in each of us, that sacred something that seems to know the Light… in one continuing to grow brighter…but in most of us: the inevitable darkening as veils of fear thicken and the heart withers behind a mask. The higher knows the lower, but the lower knows not the higher, and so: “no witness sighed”. A very touching poem, sad in its way– that noble beings move so invisibly among us.

    • The older I get, the less sad this situation becomes. I suppose this is true because I know that whatever the truth of the matter, it is endured by any weakening child throughout a lifetime and by those “noble beings” and are “so invisibly among us,” still, at this end of life, this condition will not go on much longer while at the other end stretches a lifetime of almost pathetic endurance something our “puny noodles” at time register as sad, indeed, having no real idea how little sadness has to do with anything in this world in the greater light of what awaits both the child and the noble once the veils of this existence are lifted in the end.

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