Take heart, ye wayworn pilgrims
on the road to finding out,
who’ve braved the elements of fear,
delusion, pride and doubt,
and found on your long journey
not a sole epiphany
except that destinations often
Take heart, ye lovesick paramours
who thirst for the divine,
whose knees are raw from crawling
through the realm of Proserpine;
what horrors in the realm of Death
you’ve suffered for your lust
are merely shadows, palimpsest
that will crumble to dust.
Take heart, ye hopeless wanderers
who think there is no trail
and have forsaken long ago
some great quest for the Grail.
The cup is in your hands already;
Drink, and have your fill.
If you can’t find it there by now,
you likely never will.
10 May 2005