The Unsustainable Threshold
You call me.
I toil and spin and search.
I know not which way to turn.
I do not see you here or there,
Though with each movement, is the evidence
That you are near,
That you have passed by.
What agony in pursuing you!
The desire of you
And not of else or ought
Is its own discipline in detachment,
But the anticipation,
The longing and yearning,
Rising to that antique and unsustainable threshold…
The agony persists in all hope–
The perseverance in all hope–
The knowing of not knowing what is next–:
The snap, the break, the humbling,
and, oh, the falling of letting go
unto the sweet breath of your rising!
unto the gentle caress of your consolation,
unto the tender compassion of your reassurance,
unto your courageous gift as you lift up your lowly.
You call me,
and I long
unto the abandonment of all longing.