There Are No Words. . . .


There Are No Words

There are no words
in this limiting lexicon
to tell of the place
where heart proceeds
to the precipice to touch
the face of eternity.

To tell of the unsteady stance
ready to drop the knees
at the altar of worlds
begging for recognition.

This they say, these giant oaks
in their flowing manes of moss,
straight out in glory
to the Great God.

This, they say, is the veil
that I tore away
to glimpse, simply glimpse
the other side
from where I stand.

No need ever to remember
how I arrived,
through bulrushes and
septic pools of detritus
to find this oasis
in a dry desert of mind.

Simply to arrive,
unbalanced on quivering legs,
at this great altar,
too late, but never too soon. . .

always on time.

photo by
John Hallissey

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