Meditations — The Passage

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Meditations — The Passage

A Poem

Courtesy Agni

A sudden mystery’s silent tread
Crouches upon our unwary hours,
To an air grown solemn
And a hush upon our members.
A sacred Other approaches,
To an uncomprehending worship.
Too great, too unlike to our littleness
Is That, the locus of our perambulations.
It smiles at our plans and pains.
At a hundred turns its trap that would save
Our self from deceiving error and pain.
Yet, assiduously we choose small
No great high or great fall we covet,
Save the routine trinkets of grotesque life.