November 5, 2015
from the finest mind comes a poem like no other....
On that day you shall stretch forth your hand: so that I May reach to
meet you and I will receive it no more.
For such purpose has been displaced
and the essence is without
And when ye seek my face for thy sight, when ye findeth it
It shall not be that which ye desireth. For ye have not being of me
truly.
Withhold thy tidings to thy self, for they are not favorable unto me
Let your feet be wanting from my abode and thine knocking seize on
my door
And I shall say unto you ” then which I hath no penny and my hair
void of olive, my sole of sandal, my jar of wine and neither was there a
sign of cooking nor sound of celebration and was bereft of fortune
And my abode was heavily grave as a sepulcher. Thus saith unto
another “He is not of us”. And thy countenance upon me was as of a
stranger.
But now when success bears my name and Solomon my companion, whose
table do I daily wine and dine.
For larger than any is my coast.
Thou seeth me in the street and saith “Behold, our brother”.
And if the lord put thine Mercy into my heart, I might call thee-
herds of foes, to have a feast with me.
For it is truly thee that made my determination and my mounting to this
height a reality.
So will you love me now, when it is yet my glittering Latter? So I may
love you then, when it all will Matter.
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