Seeker

A Cynics Visitation

I have been to my far country

Seeking the face of God

There a terrene people dwell

True tillers, slowly awed

Warm folk heedful of Gaia’s needs

An homage of ground and seeds  

 

I watched them work their fields ablaze

in garments stained by the rood

a credo’s mail, armor of belief,

bolstered by eucharist food

Their secret to harvests that brought no end to joy   

was peace that does not cloy

 

Moses blessing was neath a veil

an aura too vague to see

I searched for a sign to light my way,

this led to riddles for me

The tillers saw no secret hidden under his mask

Proving a lie was my task.

 

I stood before the burning bush

Eyes fixed by fire

With pride of heart, doubting eyes

my faith lay on the pyre

A childish mind cannot untie a knot

God has not forgot

 

If led with truth a crowd is always right

My people knew the face of God in soil

Their just reward revealed in toughened hands

I saw them harvest truth in fervid toil

For me the quest for faith at last had found

its end; the face of God is hope unbound