The mind is the landscape
Of our hopes and fears
Our community of being
Revealed within the battle
Raging, forever raging
Behind tired eyes
That none shall deceive
Nor supersede, but
Rather engage to
Comfort or challenge.
What was, yet is
And still shall be
Denied, confirmed
Wrestle til dawn unfurls
Thumbprint upon the heal.
Thought, Word, Spirit
From being, through living, to returning
The Mind grounded, discovered,
Within the being of God
Insufficient, Inadequate for sure
Yet, still an image of God
Triadic structure of human thought
Tis a blade so sharp and swift
Disturbs peace of mind
Unmasks false spirits
Hesed, reveals, confronts
For Justice does not whisper
But demands an account
Of gifts given, and spent
Without thought or care
Knowledge without wisdom
Is but a dangerous folly.
Where the liar’s liar lies
Cold comfort consumes
In a world of assumptions
Dawn to dusk, and again
Circles within the mind
Self-consumer of thoughts
First this, then that
Cabbages and kings
Whose in, whose out
Who knows, who cares...
When the persona is spent
And yet…and yet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem