Destiny's Call

The Negative Way

I shall to prescience in chains submit

compelled by destiny’s unwavering eye

all my resident errors to be judged

like whimpering dogs kicked aside. 

Both large and small they come to heal

obedient to the master’s beckoning call

and upward leap into forgiving arms

by the very instrumentality of their fall.

To judgment un-protesting I shall go

limping in my chains, my life aglow

with certitude’s sweet healing comfort

though all my life is brought low.

The sickness of infinitude has amplified

my need to be, but perversely still not be

while a hollow that cannot be filled in me

confounds my wish to see and not be seen. 

A thing in speech that cannot be said

is a thing in spirit that’s worth much thought

from the apophatic dark a light shines forth

revealing wonders that cannot be bought.   

A willingness hard won is not to know

what next will come, and so in chains I wait

while circling crows in thought contend

to make me doubt the purpose of my fate.