Into The Dark

The poet must carve a path out of the world's stone that leads up to the word of God. And this without knowing whether his words have the fine engraved edges of words in a monument or the movement you see in the travelling stars or opening flowers. In a child's first footsteps. How much we don't know! The world is the scope of our ignorance. Life in the world is a magnifying lens which focuses my ignorance into speech.

My door into the dark is carved in stone, like the eastern door in a great cathedral, inset with row after row of fantastical carvings. It's the door of ignorance and knowing. My feet take me there, having passed through wonder and the praise of wonder. I am required to be the light.

But neither is this the word of God. Is it the passage in or the passage out? Only if speech says so. Is it the achievement of feet, standing, walking, from infancy to old age? But I've walked into the dark since my light was first sparked from earth's heavenly beginning. So far beyond the keenly engraved boundaries of this life!

The laughter is a memorial too, carved in life's eternal present. Those letters are pleasing to contemplate. Why, the world is itself a monument, with names of the fallen on its million faces.

I don't wish to be merely mystical or poetic-sounding. There is a fine focus to these words. A fine engraving, a carving, leading up to the word of God. But it lies in the magnification of ignorance, the pattern of speech, the regulation of feet. These wonders, these songs of praise, let me be the light as I go, through the door of each day, into the dark.

Jay

© Landar 2012. All rights reserved

 

Image: Pythagoras from Chartres Cathedral Door

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