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What do I mean by these words
which contradict each other?
What is this course I am counseling
that seems to lead nowhere sound?
These words,
like sparks spraying
from the sharpening wheel,
while what really is the matter
is shaped and sharpened,
they only indicate,
not the direction of my soul
nor advice to any,
but there is a wheel turning,
and one fashioning a tool somewhere.
Again, seek,
stopping to undo your shoes,
the holy mountain,
and then cease,
dropping to your knees
beside the stream
that issues from the root
of an enormous tree,
flowering and bearing fruit
like a luscious fountain,
and know this — unlike my poems,
this is no dream,
only attainable ingress
into living eternity.
Leave behind all the talk
lavishing your spirit.
Approach the source of song,
more searing as you near it.
After words,
return to your proper place and peel
the skin from your eyes
that were so draped and darkened.
They only vindicate,
not the inspection of your soul
nor the price of plenty,
but Wisdom is wild,
learning does not languish in its lair.
Where have you been by your own words,
my sister or my brother?
Take your resourcefulness querying
beyond me to holy ground.
— Romanós
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