On Lent and Lingering Doubt...

If I wrapped you in swaddling clothes
Would you be so quick to run off to matyrdom?
Semi-charmed-
Somewhat charming-
And warmed by the history of the trials that came before
Most call it a curse
I can't cry out of course
Since your curse is my curse
and the curse of the world-
Of course-
On course
But to what end do we wander?
The mind is full when the stomach is empty
Rumi said that
Or Hafiz
Or someone who understands the world far better
than I
I have flashes in the pan of something greater
and brighter
But I can't seem to make it stay-
Make it last-
I roll over in my bed and it's gone again
I blinked and it's run away-
Run a way
That diverges from me
(Sorrier that I could not travel all)
I would be that Poem
Except my feet are tired and deformed
And I cannot long for what I do not know.
so No
I don't care that I'm lost
I know I left a map somewhere
In amongst my mangled feet
Swirled in around with leaves and dirt
and the history of my Path before-
Perhaps the Cheshire Cat
can help me find it.