The Arrival

What do you write upon the blankness;
White pages of life staring at your eagerness;

Young Man, will you talk more than you live ?
Your ostensible desire to catch Truth in your fist
Through new motions, ideas and revolutions -- mean nothing to me.

Me ;your Soul : listening ; watching your torrents ; passion and haste.
I follow you through the desert, where you practice your austerities against the wind and the heat;
You spit your venoms in the sand.

I follow you through narrow path of thorns and flintstones
as you climb the highest mountains of solitude -- to understand yourself .

I watch you try and make another God,
A God -- of your solitude;
You pour tears on the earth, and cut your veins till the grounds are red
You wait patiently to witness the arrival of your God .
A God -- other than you!