Ground

And here dropped low,
he was near enough to his real value,
which was nothing.
zero nil nada.
it was on the ground,
where he could see the
particles of dust,
that he could see himself
so much more clearly.
it was his real
level,
kneeling
was his real
home.
his hands brushed the floor
and unsurprisingly
they came up dirty,
because that’s what he was
sinner bruised broken
in need and stained
his head brought low
not held high.
because the high imaginations
and plans which he had had,
the Father had
ground
into dust
with his finger
and had laughed in derision.

low
were his ways and
thoughts.
as planets from the sun,
so far from
The Father’s.
down here he could see
up there-
The Most Holy One
exalted
On a throne.
that was simply
where The Father belonged.

from there He
turned His loving gaze
down on man
and most especially,
on men who
[despite discomfort, pain
and constant urges to
rise up on their own feet,
or
to relax and fold their arms, idly]
understood
and found their
homes,
in childishly
abandoning their own language
for a less dignified
babble from the Spirit
and
humbly,
in a
physical position
parallel to their
disposition of lowliness-
kneeling down
level only with the ground.

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