Raw Poetry by Rev. Shakes Spear
Tight-Lipped Monks
The life of the High
Priest, Prophet, or King
comes at the dear price
of having to think.
Sure, it sounds easy
but what do you know?
You sit there, feet up,
watching the show.
Laughing at lines,
dumbstruck by drama,
vicariously
living through trauma.
But when Sunday comes
you ponder the Wise,
and long for that look
they have in their eyes.
What is it they gaze?
What do they behold?
If they see the Truth,
why haven’t they told?
Ah, there’s the Secret;
the Riddle of Man:
to know that God is
I Am That I Am.
10-12-24