The Holy Longing
Tell a wise person, or else keep silent,
Because the massman will mock it right away.
I praise what is truly alive,
what longs to be burned to death.
In the calm water of love-nights,
where you were begotten, where you have begotten,
a strange feeling comes over you
when you see the silent candle burning.
Now you are no longer caught
in the obsession with darkness,
and a desire for higher love making
sweeps you forward.
Distance does not make you falter
now, arriving in magic, flying,
and finally, insane for the light,
you are the butterfly and you are gone.
And so long as you haven’t experienced
this: to die and so to grow,
you are only a troubled guest
on the dark earth.
The lights I see are such an enigma to me –
I have no answers for this seeing,
what is seen and my sense of it;
and yet, I have a new question every day!
What is the point?
Why do I see what I have no answer for
and what has no answer here?
I ask my soul for an answer and it comes.
I see light in the dark.