Monday, September 19, 2011


Come, Wanderer, from the wind-born blast
And tangled myriad of darkened dreams.
Come, Fugitive, from your storm-scarred past.

Come, Mariner, toward the blinding beams
And blessed albatross you thought you slew:
Come and fear not, though resurrection gleams,

Glows, beckons, and threatens to rip through
The paper-thin reality you made
And remade, and must be Made anew.

Come, Lone One, dare you not to be afraid,
Dare, one trial past, the next ordeal
Of fire, or is it yet to be delayed?

Though erring man as men must be, yet Real,
You are not, nor are meant to be alone;
And one is come to help, the Other, heal.

You are gone forth, one ray of thought: are grown
A Man in fields of stars, unknowing and unknown.
Come, Stranger, shine away your shell of stone.

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