Visitation

He did not sleep, though night fell dim

and creeping hours long,

and clouded thoughts so troubled him,

so silenced every song.

And how to tell what he did find,

unearthed as if to start

a thrumming engine in the mind,

what motor in the heart?

As if an angel whispered still,

so quiet-loudly in the ear,

“Go speak to Her, you must and will

in this sweet autumn of the year;

and do not question why or how,

but seek Her, as you must from now.

Though all against your reason shouts,

I tell you simply: seek Her out.

And though your road seems dark and long,

you would not wish an easy task;

so I command, and do not ask:

be true and faithful, good and strong,

and though it tests your every art,

you must present to Her your heart.”

And how he wondered, this to hear,

and doubted every word.

What worm within him made him fear,

and call the thing absurd?

“I do not know the one you speak,

but met Her once or twice;

would not my mind be very weak

to follow your advice?”

She seemed so sudden ancient old,

so fearful now, he gave a cry.

She said, “But do as you are told,

you’ll later learn the reason why.

If you’d become the man you must,

you’ll simply hear my word and trust;

and if you wish to find the way,

you’ll hear my voice and you’ll obey.

There are more secrets in the earth

than mere thinking can discover;

and if you would this truth recover

you must begin to prove your worth.

And though it takes some passing seasons,

with time you will work out the reasons.”

What was this voice outside of time

that spoke to him that night,

that set his feet upon the climb

to show Her Her own light?

He does not know, nor often ask,

says, “Angel, maybe dove.”

He’s far too busied with the task

of showing Her his love.

And though he knows he is absurd,

he still would gladly die

if by some loving act or word

he brought joy to Her eye.