Touch of a Waking Hand
The old man I should have become in full time
came calling on me to see the unmade death bed
where illusions deeply draw their final breath
and in the exhalation blow apart the delicate
arrangement of vapor that shapes our earthly days.
This flesh, this world, this cavernous expanse
of stars ablaze is an intricate distraction;
an opaque scrim to blanket and blind us as we live,
woven into a fabric on the loom of God's long dream.
What miracles labor eternally inside such thoughts
that exchange the gold of divine imagination
for the humble lead of spacetime and substance,
sculpting the universe from a lucid dreamer's clay?
The man I might have become explains these things,
reciting aloud every word he knows will go unsaid
with my breath, in my voice, from my lips.
This skin I cherish is just a momentary boundary
occupied in solitude amid a world of separations,
not a thing deserving of reverence and mourning
once the life has gone that bound together its dust.
When death opens passage beyond our living shore,
my genuine self will shed the load of my limbs
and be lifted out of this potent fantasy of Earth
by the satisfied and loving hand of my sole Creator,
who shepherds me out of life's confusion and discord
to walk on reborn feet toward the waiting reunion
where I can join the congregation of gentle souls
drawn from one family, one ancestry, one history.
Where my days under the sun are a dimming memory
that grips the retreating edge of my opened mind.
Where I receive the gifts of every question answered,
unwrapped only in the unraveling of worldly cloth
by the fingers of the hands that are numb to me today,
fingers belonging to the man I will be in time.
About the Poem
This poem takes a journey around the boundaries of the nature of the universe, the nature of what we are while we pass through it, and the eventuality that I pray in my heart will someday come when I leave it. Here is a video interpretation of this poem, read by David:
Touch of a Waking HandThis poem takes a journey around the boundaries of the nature of the universe. View on YouTube
This poem is previously unpublished in print. This poem was finished 2002. Revised May 27, 2006.