Wednesday, the Third Week of Lent
Why stand you there,
Know you not that the thirst shall be fast
and the past worst
and that though neither jot nor tittle shall change
all else shall?
Now that household gods are no longer in demand
now that the certain is going up
and man has entered the whirled arena
spinning off his lines in evolutionary spasms
matching wits with the width of space and time
where life is drama
and eternity the certain call.
Which reminds this I-land that a few hours ago
we had time on hour hands and minute hands
and now possess not even a second chance
thrown into the tick of things
into the mainspring of civilization
we watch and clock and estimated fifteen bloody rpy’s
unwind the spring the great watchmaker wound.
Now that man is sitting on a prouder-keg
and boasting of his Adam-smasher.
Why sit you there.
Now that man is fled from serf-city
and the barren no more feed on peasant-under-glass
now that man is freed to run alone
past the call of idolness
and all such creaturely end-ever
into the infinite-thee of God.