Читать книгу The Sunrise Liturgy - Mia Anderson - Страница 14

People who live in glass houses

sunbathe.

Once the seal on the day’s package slit,

sun pops, light squirts, ultraviolet leaks, and the skin

begins its melanomic countdown.

Our days are numbered in suns and spots. It’s skin and sun

all the way, till death us do part.

This light we die of

it offers us a dying into more light.

Is that the Way and the Truth?

I am the Way, the Truth and by the way the Death?

We’re reluctant to condone suicide, hang on! we say,

lâche pas! Yet we lie in the sun.

I fall asleep in a cloud of unknowing, the sun bright on the bed

through a dozen glass panes

basking in the Presence…

the Bridegroom in the midst of his swift course

riding his chariot up the skies, loving his creation.

This is the contemplative fix, voyons!

to bask in the Son is the very model of contemplative prayer.

And gradually

the sun changes your skin, your borderland and doucement

we are divinized ‘until our singeing day’ when

what else? we fall asleep in the Sun.