Who are you, Lord? ? ?
won't you reveal more of thyself to me...
for am just a mortal, caught up within myself;
for can I drink up the ocean? ?
look beyond the horizon? ?
bend the rainbow and wield it? ?
you are so close yet I know so little;
for I have just taken a sip...
my fingers have just brushed against the tassle;
my eyes have had just a glance...
yet I feel full... I feel fed;
but can the finite reach out to the everlasting? ? ?
and can the arrow question the Archer? ?
its blurry between the lines, Lord...
I get off track painlessly,
but I want to hold on desperately...
make sure that I reach home tonight,
home? ? I realize that my home is across the river...
will I ever get to see moonshine again? ?
will someone make sure that I have both?
won't you gather me as I break? ?
will you not embrace me to heal? ? ?
shall not this heart of mine have respite again? ?
yes, it will... when the golden dawn breaks...
and the Dayspring from on high,
visits his footstool again...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem