Five Poetic Breaths (2/5)

CLIMB

When he took to the hill
he carried the memory and anticipation of a high up and lonely homily
he was prepared to speak and listen only to the birds if they alone constituted his company

it was almost time when he sat in a teaching posture

The followers sweated in their own ascension
did they chose
or were they chosen
whatever
they were here now
atop the mountain with him seated and lest we forget the birds

the others stayed below
resting out of exhaustion or fear of what lay high up in the clouds
too much to see and hear
voices they were not ready to bear
would they ever be ready?

Long before, only one ascended, well, one and a helper went to the mountaintop
but now all were welcome
and few accompanied in a slow trickle behind

Once he sat, they knew to climb
then he uttered and pedagogy poured forth

flowed like a river
They couldn't catch up to the all of it
But they saw the movement, that's what mattered
Not taking it all in, but seeing this dynamic
the motion
They tasted a spoonful
the full flow would have drowned them
consumed them
actually destroyed them

He called them seasoning and flavor
He called them illumination
And light must be seen, not snuffed out.

Taught and heard on more than a score
of course they did not take it all in
but only saw the word move by and then hoped they would catch up to even one talking point
somewhere around the bend
would the river loop back on them

How would they be seen bright and flavored?
So many ways

http://theawkwardseason.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/bxp33092m.jpg
The lighthouse pictured at the link above has me thinking about searching for the light. It has me thinking about the light that Jesus refers to in the Sermon on the Mount.