21 Jun Threshing Floor of Curses or, Choosing Innocence

In the shadow of the mountain where wonders transpired
The living torments of children God breathes inspired,
Might they trust in illusions of a fallen place
And convince themselves that they see the face
Of their God, once innocence burns away.

Innocence, I lost you somewhere along the way
I lost that child-nature that once led me to say,
I am a fool for wonder, for adventure, for good,
My eyes became dark, my flesh became wood,

Those embers became a cold winter-still stream
Where sunlight strikes soft to keep it in dream
Under the ice, breathless, I can perceive
What through the warped water what I believe
To be the truth about God and all He created
In what He renders lifeless, what He abdicated

To the whims of little children mannequin-dolls
And had He cared when His smallest sparrow falls
Or is this the truth, this truth the grieving have told
That what is most real is what is lifeless and cold?

In the shadow of the mountain where little things live
And come down to see what His statues might give,
But only what pools in the heart callous-sore
That to be rich in this world is still to be poor,

Material treasures like mice in steppe grass,
That disturb not a blade of it as they pass,
Those little things mean little in the noise-glamour
Until they run, run, run away, crowded by clamor.

Innocence, I looked where you ought to be
I knew you were no longer searching for me,
When I passed the coast of my siren of fears
I regret I had not molded wax in my ears,
That I heard it all, worse that I let myself listen,
And worse, I had believed all gold should glisten.

The shadow of the mountain where lessons were learned,
To contemplate fire, one must have been burned
And before anything was ever evil, before any age,
Might God have shown mystery on foundation-stage,
As a deep-sea echoing of great beings underwater
In pelagic nights, sinking, far away from the Father,
From anything I recognize, from any pattern of light
In the nihilist nothing, in the primordial night,
Such a vision visited me in vivid asphyxiation,
I open my mouth but no sound comes out, this situation
Took place before there was sound, or horror, or me,
Under the pillars of immovable, frustrating eternity.

Innocence, I asked God in a prayer that I nightly do
That you be back with me, and I back with you,
I could seek the Lord with that same groping hand
And seek like an infant that could not understand
Why he needs warmth or love, to cry or to nurse,
But knows the alternative is much, much worse;
For this I hope, I dream, I trust, and I persist
In the faith of my God, a faith I have missed.