No one can deny,
we live between
two worlds:
the world that is,
and the world that
ought to be.
All striving,
all hope,
all suffering,
all judgement,
is a searching gaze
at the world of ought.
But where is this world
that we may walk
its righteous paths?
What evil hid
the bridge between the two?
Then you will hear
a subtle whisper:
look around you,
there is no bridge,
you are already there.
The world that ought
to be is written plainly
in the stars of this world.
If we are mere creatures
among creatures,
why should the Law that
guides the robin home,
that taught the seedling
to become an oak
that built the eye,
and illuminated
the Earth not be
the Law that
guides our hearts?
Let us give way
to the law that thirsts
for life and patiently
and blindly
molds everything
to its will.
Perhaps this will suffice
for a time.
Until you see that the voice
that could explain so
many things
forgot one:
Where is it written that
we ought to we grow
and not wither?
And you will scour every
corner of the firmament
and describe every
phenomenon
to sub-atomic detail
and you will never
find carved upon it
the words,
“and it was good.”
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