for H.E, K.E

“Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility” - Wordsworth

the dust in the street
scattered before Him,
but His feet remained unsullied.
doors shut and windows were drawn
as His presence became known.
then, from the darkness of their dwellings,
from behind the veils of many
came the voices of the distressed.
"what manner of man are you?" one said
"why do you trouble us?" cried another.
the shadow of dusk
crept about the clay built homes,
but His Eye pierced the dimness
to their hearts.
"I am One! I am Singleness!" He announced
and He knew they quivered,
for this Day had been foretold
but none had heeded its call.
"Why do you lie in the dry earth?
Do you not see the eternal river break at your feet?
Even now it encircles your soul.
Will you drink from its living waters?"
but none stirred.
"Who among you desires the Sea?" He cried
"You who are stranded on the sands of Time!"
and then from out a doorway stepped two children.
confident, with brilliant eyes, they came into the Light.
"Please", they said, "we will drink".