Offices
Only the near shore and the sky sustain light.
I’ve yet to see a blue deeper than this sea,
though flecked with wave-tip flashes of foam.
What office of my day can admit the pull?
With every risen sun, the chanting of lauds does bring some,
but what of a blue that will not be quenched?
Vespers to begin and me absent from my cell,
they’ll be wondering where I’ve stolen to,
but there’s a presence in the blue, a differing, tempting light.
I do intend to stay a spell; nights with or without stars
cannot arrest the coming fight. Black as my cowl,
this elemental blue all but assures it.
Could it be my brief meander from the order portends
a more lasting turn, away from the true Light?
And me a devout ascetic from when He arose in me?
Here alone I observe the day's final office, gird myself and pray—
for a peaceful night and happy death, come what may.
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What a beautiful poem, mysterious and calming.
I love how the long look and relook at the image and reread of the poem illuminate and enrich. “To gird myself and pray….there’s a presence in the blue, a differing, tempting light…”
A rich spirituality. Brava!