Climbing clouds like stepping stones and silver fonts
(they cleanse his every step on upward ways tread through the air.)
Homeless, for his home is made in others' hearts
(swiftly taken, every step, towards
the peak of any mountain, the crest of any wave,
the swell of any quiet valley's hill,
there to enlarge his habitat.)
What use for garments, alms, particular things has he
whose eyes tell both the image of his one possession,
which possesses him: a flawless pearl,
its price unasked, held in his breast
(who speaks to God and hears of you, your name that sounds like pearl)?
Hmm....as usual, I enjoyed this, but I'm feeling a bit of a lack of any sort of conclusion or resolution, as if you've decided to describe a scene from the middle of a story. Was that intentional?
ReplyDeletePilgrims are afforded two resolutions: despair or arrival. I haven't despaired and I'm not dead. It wasn't intentional but I wouldn't change it.
ReplyDeleteGlad you enjoyed it.
-Dan H.