Each facet of the heart is a detuned facet
Of God above,
An infantile facet
Of God above
And each facet
Carouses on busses pretending
To be nothing.
There is something
Like a Rubaiyat to the world!
Trust in this Rubaiyat!,
How the trusses of
This flawless perfection are formed
Where piecemeal breaks occur -
Not a perfect existence.
But a Perfection will emerge
From everything still.
God’s unfaltered will
Is beyond the flagging
Of the individual feelings.
Our pain abstains from healing
Our pain abstains from healing
Only for moments.
Which may happen:
hours, decades, years:
Then the moments pass.
Our pain is just this strewn ballast.
The heart, the heart,
After many hours,
Turns free at last!
