April 7, 2021: Beginning of a Telepathic Unity

Beginning of a Telepathic Unity

You’ve got a different emotional style,
That I don’t yet understand.
I just know I like seeing you smile,
And I love you for letting me be a child.
Will you let me be a man?

At times, I feel your assurance of touch,
And it’s deep beneath my skin.
You gently say, “I’m ready for trust,
And just for this thought, we can feel so much.”
Well, I want to let you in.
 
At times, I wonder what you’re all about.
I wonder what I’ve been missing.
I wish we could both just shine ourselves out,
Without out-shining or needing to doubt.
I wish I knew how to listen.
 
At times, I think I’m not good enough,
Yet you’ve graced me with your time.
I feel like the Shepherd, who’s gentle and tough;
Who humbly awaits you to call his bluff
To reach one another in mind.
 
 

April 7, 2021: The Fool's Prayer by Edward Rowland Sill, in Oxford Anthology of Amer. Lit., pg. 978

The Fool's Prayer

The royal feast was done; the King
Sought some new sport to banish care,
And to his jester cried:  'Sir Fool,
Kneel now, and make for us a prayer!"

The jester doffed his cap and bells,
And stood the mocking court before;
They could not see the bitter smile
Behind the painted grin he wore.

He bowed his head, and bent his knee
Upon the monarch's silken stool;
His pleading voice arose:  'O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!

'No pity, Lord, could change the heart
From red with wrong to white as wool;
The rod must heal the sin:  but Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!

' 'Tis not by guilt the onward sweep
Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay;
'Tis by our follies that so long
We hold the earth from heaven away.

'These clumsy feet, still in the mire
Go crushing blossoms without end
These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust
Among the heart-strings of a friend.

'The ill-timed truth we might have kept --
Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung?
The word we had not sense to say --
Who knows how grandly it had rung?

'Our faults no tenderness should ask,
The chastening stripes must cleanse them all;
But for our blunders -- oh, in shame
Before the eyes of heaven we fall.

'Earth bears no bassam for mistakes;
Men crown the knave; and scourge the tool
That did his will; but Thou, O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!

The room was hushed; in silence rose
The King, and sought his gardens cool,
And walked apart, and murmered low,
'Be merciful to me, a fool!