In the Image Intended

I have waited to hear in the black starless night

A voice from the shores of oblivion,

But all I heard was the sobbing refrain

Of one who remained in the body to see

The passing of his sisters and brothers and friends.

Now the days lengthen as summer appears

With lilacs and roses and her tresses of gold

And I in the stillness of morning arrive

At the crossroads of meaning, yet to decide

To commit myself to the ultimate giving;

Not to death, the door keeper who waits in the wings,

Patient, unmoving, supreme and supremely at ease

The conclusion of life and his harvest of souls.

The sacrifice asked for is one of delight,

Surrender of all that we mortals hold dear,

Our sorrows, desires, our need to be known

As distinct and unique in our frail human flesh,

But an offering true and stripped of all guise

Allowing the Spirit room to become

That which we know as the truth of our being.

More calm in the body, the mind to be stilled,

A purification of all that denies,

Plastic, resilient, that we may be cast

In the image intended, immortal, divine.

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(The descent of a different rhythm scheme for me)