pitching your tent

 

pitching always your tent

where i have pitched mine

beside my neighbor’s

you remain my lord

you are my peace

from above

a light from heaven

with life like an ever-flowing river

to quench my thirst

you are that glorious whole

the most holy one

my feeble feet discover rest

in your place

you are the pioneer

that stone in the corner

by being my servant

serving me in my need

henry victor     02.02.2003

i offer

at your invisible feet i offer this set

of bones of this body, mind and soul
this disjointed person, myself, like a poem
incomplete, un-poetic with rhythm

evaporated like the dew drop

on the tropical wild grassland
refuse not this inconvenient offering
unsystematic in its playing

of that flute, emptiness, the mysterious

hollow in the middle i missed control
with my licking the edge, the solid
casing that shone and my spirit misled