I long to wander and to wonder
that other side of life untried
reaching down inside of me beyond nature’s side,
urgings not yet satisfied,
silences not yet heard:
what blindness has never seen.
Is it all that I’ve been told?
Will I be all there,
body, blood, heart, and soul?
Is heaven all that I desire,
the absence of eternal fire?
No rising or setting sun,
no spring blooms, no coloring of leaves,
only the blindness of snowflakes’ infinite display.
Heaven the mystery:
the mystery that threatens me
and like the ending of Beethoven’s Fifth.
He was deaf but still could hear.
We are blind and yet can see.
October 8,2007
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