(another translation of a modern monk’s prayer)
Make me…
To chime Your lines
from time to time
while standing clearly on the tight rope
of Your Being. Taut, somewhere between stars and cities…caught, miming Your Name, in mid air!
like on that red rocking horse chair as a boy, us corralling the moon and sky together
as your holy toys!
To walk before the cheers or silence of men below, or even their jeers,
wearing the same flashy suit, the gear of Your Grace-white silk and diamond flecked glowings, ongoing…shimmering outwards.
Already having heard your endless applause
Already having glimpsed Your Face, I’m free to pause, into being
and serve, unstilted, for Your own un-pedantic purposes. To trigger
transformation, a wire tripping kit, a fuse lighter…a spark in the dark.
Our own niche.
So, put the top hat of Your Love on me
so others can see just how tall You really are!
I wanted to live it from, not about You-to be a symbol not a sign-
a metaphor not a simile! That’s me-someone who rhymes with Your Being.
So you slipped me this “be in Him” card at some long ago party.
I still carry it—it just says, be “in Him”-so, that’s my calling card.
Now turn off any propaganda and make it art in me
made in our studio, in which we are in this forever-collaboration…to be,
that is the answer to Thee. So, make me me.
