In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, "Let there be light"; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.
When all fine things melt away,
platinum and books and Chagall oils and jazz
and even memory becomes
another drop in the liquid cosmos
there will be, as in the beginning,
light, an emanating presence permeating darkness,
absorbing all disparate thoughts and persons
into one, and this one you may call Christ,
the story of all that lives, dies, and is renewed.
And when you are one with flowing truth
and love has enveloped you and accepted
you into its infinite pool
where will your beliefs be then?
What utterances of your small mind
and self-satisfied tongue will survive?
What contrivances of the god you
once held firmly in your breast pocket
next to your fountain pen
will you cling to then?
For which inflated mylar balloon of yourself
will you still hold the string?
None! You will gladly, freely,
lovingly let each one flow like water
through your fingers and you will be satisfied
to be a part of what you once
wished to have mere distant, controlling knowledge.
So why, if this same fluid universe
has baptized you already into your belovedness
and puddled you up with everything and everyone
have you not yet let go and melted
you fine thing.