Here I stand
Caught up in a draft of awareness,
Yet in a cloud of dimness.
Seeking, yet wondering if I’m capable of seeking.
Reaching, yet resisting;
Wanting the light but fearful of its brillance.
Here I stand
Wondering how I came to be and why,
Drawn to this time and place
And asking vague questions about reality, about myself,
About eternal things.
Am I the one to reach for lessons to share
When the sharing seems se faltering?
Is there a message? Is there a mission?
Is this man? In me?
The stark realities of life remain hidden.
The honesty of scripture is far removed,
The machine so real, so demanding.
My ears hear not:
because the grinding gears have covered the cries of men.
My eyes see not:
because the face of time pierces like a searing flame.
My hands reach not:
because my fingers ache from this world’s golden store
from a mission crammed with tools useless,
splintered and dull.
Where is the new man?
the servant?
the Knight of faith?
the child of God?
Someone is standing there
quivering on the edge of an abyss
yet knows not where he is,
with fog obscuring the cliff.
But the fog is not at hand, and the man is content.
Content to not face the fog
Loving the clear air
Hearing the whirl of wheels, the song of factories,
the roar of trucks.
The fog rises like a wall
but the throngs see not.
they work in their fields and factories.
But someone looks at the fog
there is a break
and a piercing light from beyond.
Those who look turn away…startled, wondering,
can it’s mystery be faced?
Is there light beyond the fog?
light worth searching
Someone holds his hand against the light.
Someone stands and stares!
And a man walks toward the light.
But the step is halting, the way is rough,
the mystery awful!
But in the factory is another abyss,
a grinding and shattering,
and the trucks are deadening!
and the fields are dulling!
The sun seems bright, but is it?
the day seems full, but who can tell?
There is a restlessness
there is an awareness
and two destinies!
(Jan. 27, 1965)