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Suppose we could sing this life
as though it were a splendid symphony:
its movements divine, all of a piece,
a perfect balance of discord and bliss.
Or, suppose we lived this holy life
as though it was a Sacred Mass:
a work of God and flesh made manifest
to redeem our human days upon the Earth.
All this power is within us now;
this song is in our hearts; these human eyes,
clouded and aging, yet marvelous still
can be cast upon this worldly plain by day
and still see, even in glimpses, the manifestations
of our Holy Work, our holy lives, placed before us.
We can look upon this worldly life and see
not toils and burdens, but the divine kiss
of God and humanity.
The soul bids us arise and take our places
in the holy processional into the sacred nave of the Earth’s cathedral.
Incense of hallowed air inspires us;
holy water of rivers and streams sings for us;
the fire of the Sun lights our altar.
Our feet planted firmly upon this Mother Earth,
we move in different steps, not always synchronized;
our vestments variously arrayed (some would say mismatched);
until someone at the front begins to sway, and others,
inching forward, move rhythmically as well.
Then all those sullen and reticent souls in the solemn line of duty
will explode at last (some would say madly)
in an awesome dance of life and light and hope
as wide as our entire planet.
And as the world dances together at last,
and joins its voices in songs of peace and freedom,
we will know that we have remade the world, at last,
in the light of our religious imaginations,
and as an echo of the sacred song of all Creation.
jbs
4/23/02 - 2/13/05
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