When the gates of pearl closed (behind me)

I sighed with relief.

And I wondered.

I wondered. (I worried)

that someone might have heard me.

They are perfect.

In beauty. In word. In deed.

I can find no flaw (though I look).

And they look at me

as if there were no difference between us.

At the throne our voices blend

in a sound so whole, so subtle, so all-encompassing

that I know.

I know.

I know it cannot last.


You are the Light beyond Seeing,

the Sound beyond Hearing,

the Name that is not Named,

the Truth that is not Spoken (or even thought).

I stand in Your Presence.

I look on Your Glory (as nearly as I am able).

And I know

that You know.

You are not fooled

(like the others).

You know. You know. You know.

Is this Your plan?

Is this the wage of my (undeserving) life?

To stand before the Throne of Glory and wait

for my voice to crack

for my skin to wrinkle

for my robe to stain?

To wait for all to discover what You (and I)

have known from the beginning?

To wait and wait and wait

for ever?

How long, O Lord?

How long?

How long?

How long can I do this?

Doug Muder