Who or What? When
the shadows lengthen and the evening comes, and the busy world is hushed, and the fever of life is over, and our work is done ...
a facet of God I like is that God, having God, having and knowing a god, a deity, and that one personal, is God being there, here, when I am here and need it to be not alone. When all is done, and the prayer is said, and it’s the wee darkest hour, and loved ones sleep, or grew up and away and moved on and are gone, and are far away, or even vanished beyond the veil if not from the heart, and one is not simply alone but lonely in darkness after the greater light has sunk into the sea, perhaps there is the One
knocking, Who will come in to me, if I open.
Or is there just darkness and I am alone?
Door slightly cracked open against the October night with its damp fog, admitting only the sound of the sea. It’s just me and hopefully Who or What I am willing to believe, choose, accept, speak to. That Whatever Who spoke to me once, nearly half my lifetime ago.
When believing slips away into shadow, I have That to call present;
and from time to time have been fool enough to share.
Sunday night Monday morning darkest foggy hour. And without the lesser light to rule the night there is only chaos, darkness and the sea, smothered in fog, murmuring.
Calling, beckoning: that would be Lilith.
Or I AM speaking, but silently this time,
saving me again.
Me, Myself, and I AM.