Exegis one

The fabric of God is lone and wandering and ceaseless in knowing though strong.

How it is I have come here as me is like seed thrown by the tree I'll have known when I'm gone.

Beyond forever is a place I also am where I know I feel at home.

This world I've loved and lost and loved sometimes both at once lonely and cold.

How does it come to pass that we are what we are and some of us have homes and some nowhere to go?

Of all the Women, he says, with great sincerity, my friends have liked you the most.

The fabric of God shines like naked stars in the tea-black ink of night.
I've never known a fruitful search of anything I've wanted but have all of everything in sight.

I cannot fall with cushioned wings the night which calls me home.
I am the God of subtle things, the God of things not whole.
I puzzle at the circumstance for which I cannot my reason apply.
It takes hold of me like wind-whipped waves my soul enslaved to a will that isn't mine.
Such madness now I've known so long no other way seems real.
For this and all my virtue lost
words can only heal.

Wednesday, March 10, 1999

Copyright 2010 by Deborah McAdams. All Rights Reserved. For Reprint Rights, click here.