The Promised Land
Ecce venio velociter
Where is the Promised Land, where peace at last?
How make the future come and kill the past?
No mystery ever was as deep as this:
Why tempests rage within the Sea of Bliss.
If you were God, would you do better, friend?
You’d make a universe you’d need to mend.
You’d weave the same intricate tapestry
Of good and evil, chance and destiny.
Maybe you’d say—’God’s not to blame at all.
He throws the dice and watches how they fall.’
To cultivate your garden: that’s the thing,
And out of dung make lovely flowers spring.
And one kind word to someone every day
Will wash a multitude of sins away.
To catch your fish, friend, lift your line—and cast!
And keep on crying, ‘Jerusalem at last!’
These final words I leave you—Don’t despair.
Keep knocking on heaven’s door. Someone’s there.