SHADOWS

I close my eyes.
The darkness implies your presence,
the shadows of your steep mind
on my world. I shiver in it.
It is not your light that
can blind us; it is the spendour
of your darkness.
                            And so I listen
instead and hear the language
of silence, the sentence
without an end. Is it I, then,
who am being addressed? A God�fs words
are for their own sake; we hear
at our peril. Many of us have gone
mad in the mastering
of your medium.
                           I will open
my eyes on a world where the problems
remain but our doctrines
protect us. The shadow of the bent cross
is warmer than yours. I see how the sinners
of history run in and out
at its dark doors and are not confounded.