Destiny's Call
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.