Today's Prayer: Eventually

Eventually, I will be there, Lord.

The world will not stop when I arrive, nor will there be tears of happiness

because I paced with the clock’s spinning, because I negotiated the earth’s tilt

Stone Guardian, Paris

and clung within the gravitational hug,

hearing laughter emanate from grandfather’s belly.

I will arrive, eventually, and Wisdom will turn her pages

pointing to words printed, painted, sung –

throat to ink, scribe to typesetter, to the scanned document

I open and enlarge. Should I bookmark it? Will it wait for me

    until . . . until . . .

Eventually, I will return,  Lord.

In the vestibule I’ll place my coat and turn,

before I close the door,

to view the evening glowing behind the neighbor’s house. And I will arrive

to visit, eventually, on a day marked on the calendar, designated – for

I must mark, ink, post, save word and breath

to stop the tilt of the moment

and release to

my neighbor, Wisdom,

You.

With me, You are.

Wisdom and my neighbor are

at my right and at my left.

Seated, I stop my spinning,

present with You.