The distance from one point along our spiritual journey to another may look short, but it can take decades of wandering in the wilderness to travel the space between them.
The reason is because it can take decades for our original ideas about the journey to die off, one by one.
No way into the promised land before then.
Posts
1 comment:
Titleless
For Michael Shay
Melancholy’s tincture
Broods a crescent
Moon pie sugar rush.
I live in moments without
Memory, my smile
A white space, pure child.
Wits dulled, banished
From my city of birth,
I google for novelty.
Spooky, there’s nobody
Around! I have become
Expendable.
[Disposable Poem February 10, 2010]
Dr. Mike
Post a Comment