The humming of Ickapoo

ckapoo's humming:

The mundane

Everyday conversation

Slips through my ears

Like grains of sand

Through an hourglass

Where the infinite reveals itself

Behind a curtain

Of rubble

Where whispers of the sacred

Intimate themselves through objects

Things, Senses, Sights, Sounds

The infinite knows its realization

Only through the finite

Only through the solidity of the thing

The concreteness of the everyday

The mundane

Being the curtain of access

To the sacred

As potentiality

Realized in Actuality

Bus stop

People standing listlessly

In clusters and sprays

Awaiting Deliverance To their destination

Will they be Delivered or damned?

I leave that to your imagination

Whatever the outcome

Depends On how

The journey Is executed.

Insanity

They call me insane

Because I don’t conform

I don’t fit their tidy schemas or formulas

Won’t perform their daily rituals

I don’t communicate

I’m a seedy solipsist

Saved by God’s grace alone