Christ in us, in each thing we do, or are, becoming–place and space of dialogue; the contours of our becomings, body on body, being on being; skin on stone, bone in moonlight-flashing into sunlight song–the One we meet there. this rant is endless here, in Him.
christ, in the thought of writing or being or doing-in the approach to each syllable of seeing, You, everywhere i turn. what else is there really.
christ, before within behind beyond at the center of it all…
christ, my perception impregnated with His
my imagination, the screen on which He projects His Images
(constantly cleanse my screen!-so my scream of Your becoming in us
can purely pursue on…)
we, beyond lovers–something more like co-seers, co-signers of Your Universe
Your Perception pouring over and through mine-the wet paste of becoming. Us joined like this-
me stupid and fascinating as always
You relentlessly Yourself, lovingly, becoming in and with us, as if, You needed it
Christ, how do you, why would you, when will You–Christ!
And me, well, yes, make Yourself at home again!
What else could i possibly do or be-but a place of welcoming? I gave me
to You long long ago now. We are abide. ing.
until this stage passes–and if You need a thing-even little small-cup of tea a keyhole to peer through,
let me know. Henini. i’m here. i’m receiving You. We are
making something whole together, despite myself, despite the times
because You always wanted love to resonate like this.