I Cannot Live Where Nothing Is
A Psalm of Exile and Return
Make me a fragrant offering unto Thee, O Lord.
From non-being Thou hast drawn me into being;
stitching bone to sinew and sinew to flesh,
composing a symphony in my mother’s womb,
animating dirt with Thy Breath so that
the moans that brought me forth into this world
were rewarded not with mere matter
but a vision: a human being
crying, suckling, immaculate.
In the years of my youth Thou didst cover me
with the wings of seraphim;
with eyes like those of the cherubim,
I saw in all things
Thy Glory—
creation was but the impress of
Thine Ever-Expanding Love.
But now, from the midnight watch until noon,
and from noon unto the midnight watch, I see nothing.
Trembling in despair, I would die for
the slightest premonition of Thee—
some settling of accounts,
debts I cannot and will not pay.
I chased a treasure only a fool
would mistake for more than a mirage:
the gaze of the Infinite
in an honorific,
immortality in the statues
lining the halls
of the museum of mortal memory.
But alas, I cannot live where nothing is;
so I return to the land of the living.
But there I find none who know me.
My children do not remember me,
nor do I remember what I was
before I exchanged my soul
for a bust—but dust in a shiny tin can.
Sweeter than nothing would be
a fiery glance from Thee—
the pangs of Thy Glory,
Thy merciful and selfless Wrath.
I cry unto Thee, O Lord of my salvation:
Whether by hand or by fire,
uproot the weeds of my vanity; I care not—
’tis better than a thousand days
in this lonely costume.
Take me, all of me,
and do with me what Thou wilt.
Just make me an offering,
once again acceptable to Thee,
that once again I may know
the sweet contours
of Thine Immaculate Glory—
the Visage of Thine Image
within me, at last set free.
Then, once again, I will become the place
where Thou enterest the world.
I will know the Light of life again,
and the Light shall fill mine eyes.
Real. Thank you.