by Steven K. Schou
They might have looked foolish,
those wise men,
leaving their books, following a star.
Leaving all behind:
dreams of the way things might have been,
or yet might be –
domestic, dogmatic, dignified dreams –
they abandoned all
for the learning of fools: experience,
where words meet flesh and blood,
and words fail.
They might have looked foolish,
giving up tenure,
ordination,
speculation in higher things;
giving up all,
except hunger and cold -
madmen driven to the desert to find God.
All of their wisdom,
all of their words,
distilled into darkness,
and a star.
They might have looked foolish,
traveling by night
like bandits bearing treasure
or lovers driven by desire,
traveling by starlight down that long road
from the ivory tower
to a stable
where words meet flesh and blood,
and words fail,
and all is changed,
and All Is
One.
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