(for Jim)

we've been promised a glimpse
of a Bright Dawn beyond our hushed rooms,
and weathermaps agree,
we are born fighters
where birth marks a beginning
the tombstone the gateway to Bright Dawn 

between them— 
the quiet whispers of our souls
cached like a secret note
on a quiet journey  

and armed with a stagecraft
we winnow our choices through steamy corridors
with an eye on the Bright Dawn

as one by one we withdraw
'like lofty actors
from that great play on history's stage'
we finally surrender
whatever it was 
we always chased

at the door 
our pain distills
all suffering into purity
our sorrows into stardusts

removed from this ecstatic struggle
we step through 
the soul’s quixotic looking glass
where our body’s chaff 
separates from the soul’s grain

there we feel the comfort of letting go
into His warm heart 
God’s promise to us— 
of peace, of oneness, of harmony
not grasped 
until now

there, with silent sobs 
they that have seen thy look in death 
no more will fear to die.