The god I know

The god I know I do not know
it has no hands or face
no eyes, no voice, no words
to wash the mysteries down
no songs of time or rhyme
no place to mark the spot
where I should stop
and know myself at last.
It is a flame I cannot see
or taste or touch
or hear or breathe
except through flowers
by the waterfall where
the day dies sweet and red
as honey on my tongue.
I sense soft lands
as rich as these beyond
the quivering stars which
stun my eyes and sprinkle
questions without answers
to infinity. I dream of
gleaming sands on
azure shores, heaped up
by all the prayers of all
the pilgrims through the ages,
and I yearn to know
all the ancient secrets
that taunt my wanderings
and trail my footsteps
across this restless realm.
I crave infinity but
infinity does not crave me
and the god whose eyes
I cannot see looks out from
every pounding heartbeat
and seems not to intervene.

© 2011