Brinkmanship
It is an old threshold
this self of mine
a precipice and perch
where I have been
poised and paused
for too many years
stalled in self-defeat.
Unlike many
of my kind
I have had both
the experience
and the meaning
exulting in
an autumn sunset
or a flock of doves
suddenly risen
and fleeting moments
when the One
that I have always been
smiled and beckoned.
Now as winter solstice
comes round again
I will take one step
over the threshold
as I usually do
in the season
of light’s return
one step into the place
that is no place.
Retreat will occur
as it always does
when the mask
loses transparency.
So I will remain
on the brink again
my failed will
and courage
driving me back
to place and time
and person.
There is some solace
in verse
the tremulous pointing
beyond all maps
into a territory
I may someday trod.
Until and until
and until
I will scrawl out
these lines
that shine with the
heart’s one true desire
the soul’s imploring plea.
