10 Sep For They Shall See God

Wait not, waste not the hour God has made mine,
Now is the single breath to repent and to refine
On route to the divine.

Curse not the sun when you walk in the shade of the vale,
Neither the stings of the lash nor the bruises of the flail,

Mind the hour falling and the final test of your time,
Reckon fury and mercy upon this immovable line:
This, the divine.

Write in the residue of nations with much mightier words and rhyme,
Whose language fell into madness, whose water came from wine.

Curse never the songs nor natural courage of the child,
Whose prayers furnish sapphires for the heavens neatly tiled.

Make a humble heart in you and heed the daring sign,
Between the cypress and cedar and the talking pine,
Hear the divine.

Curse never the Name in hasty words, deeds or mottled mind
Neglect not to drink this dew the Lord sent you to find,

Fading but needed divine.
Ruinous world and turbulent waking hour,
The divine comes in power, received in sepulcher crowds,
Allowed to see all-divine,
Now no hunger is futile, no mourning squandered time,

The upside-wrong will dine on the holiest of mine;
Divine crowns crystal upon the meek who sought not to be God,
Free of shod and suns on the route to be divine.