When in the soul of the serene disciple
When in the soul of the serene disciple
With no more Fathers to imitate
Poverty is a success,
It is a small thing to say the roof is gone:
He has not even a house.
Stars, as well as friends,
Are angry with the noble ruin.
Saints depart in several directions.
Be still:
There is no longer any need of comment.
It was a lucky wind
That blew away his halo with his cares,
A lucky sea that drowned his reputation.
Here you will find
Neither a proverb nor a memorandum.
There are no ways,
No methods to admire
Where poverty is no achievement.
His God lives in his emptiness like an affliction.
What choice remains?
Well, to be ordinary is not a choice:
It is the usual freedom
Of men without visions.
by thomas merton, selective poems of..
photo by paul stevenson creative commons
Thanks for posting this. This is where I need to be – but am not. I wish I were a serene disciples, but I’m still defending myself (in my own mind) against my enemies – the Bishop and (I guess) the UMC.
Thanks for posting this. This is where I need to be – but am not. I wish I were a serene disciples, but I’m still defending myself (in my own mind) against my enemies – the Bishop and (I guess) the UMC.
i’m with you craig, though the bishop isn’t really my worry. &:~D
i’m with you craig, though the bishop isn’t really my worry. &:~D