Life Is Speaking

Rife in meaning, not in word.
Tender fabric has been stirred.

Life is speaking in this way.
Tell me, friend, what does it say?

“Speaks of people that I’ve wronged.
Speaks of reckoning prolonged.

Speaks of endings to my years.
And some other long-held fears.

Speaks of rampant evil twists.
And the places they exist.

Speaks of nature once forsaken.
How my world seems to be breaking.

Speaks to everything that’s known.
And much more yet to be shown.

How many times I shut it out,
As I was wandering about?”

Perhaps you’ll learn of what you are.
Perhaps it’s never been that far.

Perhaps a part, perhaps a whole.
And how it all might feed your soul.

“There is no past, and there’s no next,
There is no ‘thing’ in this respect.

I’m getting quiet, getting long,
Getting where there is no wrong.

Life is speaking in this way,
But my answers . . . gone away.”

Answers are death, answers are ends.
Answers complete but can’t transcend.

Life’s a riddle, life’s a question,
Life escapes comprehension.

And that’s okay, and that is good,
Some things can’t be understood.

Stand in wonder, stand in grace.
There’s no trial you can’t face.