At the Edge of History

At The Edge of History

When you go deep, following a winding river to its source,

you’re soon bewildered, wandering a place beyond knowing.

Hseih Ling-yun (385-433 C.E.)

In the midnight rain,

I lie back in the steaming spring

and feel this dark water

falling, falling in the night.

This dark water speaks

the language of clouds, sky, storm.

The dark water surrounds me

like a baptism, like truth.

Lion, you are my salvation.

In the midnight rain

I listen to the water on leaves,

 oaks, sycamores, eucalyptus,

falling, falling in the night.

The dark water falls around me.

You are the autumn storm,

You are the rain. I am falling.

Lion, talk to me of the future.

Your dark water falls on my face

like cold tears, a waterfall of tears,

cold tears on my arms, face, hair.

I am becoming the rain.

In your midnight rain

I lie between two invisible worlds

here in the dark water, in the storm

We are the rain. I am drowning.

Lion, you bring courage and hope.

 I drown in your midnight rain,

 two worlds, these cold tears,

falling on a dry and thirsty land,

speaking the language of storm.

Lion, we live at the edge

of history.

We are here for a holy purpose.

Your dark water falls around me.

New tears wash away the old.

I turn my face to the sky

 making pools of my eyes.

My eyes fill with midnight rain.

I breathe between two worlds.

Lion, you are the rain, the love.

The dark water is falling,

falling on my upturned face

like cold tears, like a baptism.

Lion, speak to me of God.

I am like leaves in your rain.

Lion, you are the healing storm.

We live between two worlds,

Here at the edge of history.

Lion, you bring the Reign.