“Lord, not you,
it is I who am absent
belief was a joy I kept in secret,
into sacred places:
a quick glance, and away-and back,
I have long since uttered your name
I elude your presence.
to think about you, and my mind
like a minnow darts away
into the shadows, into gleams, that fret
Not for one second
will my self hold still, but wanders
everywhere it can turn. Not you,
it is I am absent.
You are the stream, the fish, the light,
the pulsing shadow,
you the unchanging presence, in whom all
moves and changes.
How can I focus my flickering, perceive
at the fountain’s heart
the sapphire I know is there?”