The Sacred Witness
I let it go every night, give it over to the hand of dream,
Tuck it away sometimes when gravity calls me down to feet.
Where will you go, sweet touch of senses, when the final blast comes?
I will never get used to the idea that I am a mirage.
Call me animal, infidel, empty. And then we are here and
I can reach out and touch you. I can see the color of your voice.
Every time you move I hear this: an echoing melody inside my soul.
You, human, accident of nature, you are accidentally transcendent.
Never intended to be born, never meant for your light to shine,
This darkness before you never wanted to be known,
This trauma inside you never meant to be undone,
Our young humanity never intended to dream the dream of God.
Sweet call of the ocean let my voice join your marching call.
I would like to know how to love waves sinking into sandy shores.
Let me give over my marble, my coin, my needle, my grace,
To know this is not a dream, not a falling leaf, not a silent scream.