I live my life in widening circles
that reach out across the world.
I may not ever complete the last one,
but I give myself to it.
I circle around God, that primordial tower,
I have been circling for thousands of years,
and I still don’t know: am I a falcon,
a storm, or a great song?
Washed up on your shore, exhausted from endless swimming, through heavy waves and light, through storm and sunshine, I drag myself from the waves and sit at their edge, panting… My breast heaves and I am cold to the bone, but eventually I grow quiet enough to make my camp there on your shore.
Day by day I walk the sandy beaches, circling, circling…
Sometimes you surprise me by inviting me in, and I climb ancient stone steps around your dwelling: circling, circling…
Occasionally you make it easy for me, inviting me into your office, where there is a conference going on that I understand yet do not understand, but it is about a quickening for some purpose I dare not call great…
Then there are moments when I stand on the ramparts of your tower and look out over our lands: I become your witness.
Despite these times, I continue to walk your shores, waiting…
Until that time.
Today, when we were together, you laughingly pretended not to notice when I crept away from our meeting and found the endless wooden ladder that goes up into the attic. I climbed for a long time, but the view was worth it, and when I entered the sound just right, I knew something of the will that arises out of that great emptiness… But it wasn’t the will that interested me…