What Does It Mean to Cling

​What does it mean: to cling
To God? When it is just
A lone idea or feeling,
Its hair is mussed,

It is a vision that 
We cannot trust, or
Lying in bed or wandering
Along the shore,

And we turn our pockets
Inside out to find
One thin dime, parched
In throat and mind…

A satellite map shows
The roads, shows a view
Of the rich-ridged wilderness,
The spectacled bear of Peru,

The maps of time,the maps
Of the mind and veins,
The maps of music,
Of the rising mountain lanes,

The fertile soil,
The mighty Columbia dam,
Then it is the diadem,
Then it is the seat of Abraham,

Then the sciences will rise,
The imaginable and that beyond
The imagined, beyond
The powers of the wand,

Until souls themselves 
Are sluiced to their undermost 
Fathom, and the surf
Crashes on the seacoast,

And the yachts are wealthy,
And in the airy seaside
Homes, we do not fear
Illness, suffering, ill tides,

Poverty and death, they
Do not interrupt this
Light of morning
From the dawn of genesis.

The view from upstairs
Overlooks everything,
And those people whose thoughts
And hollows are pulsing

With life, are taking charge
Of everything. The light
Rests, somehow, on the plain,
Of a tear-shaped meteorite.

There is a joy
When good people win,
The sun is setting
The tide rushes in

Enamel colors
Tinge the street,
In which the hummingbird
Has dipped its feet.

And here is the signpost
Pointing to something higher
Than the fouled streams
Of our veins, the dire

Weariness, up past dreams
We dare (perhaps) not dream,
So that islands rise
In glowing lava under steam,

Where between cathode and anode,
Neon gas glows a scarlet flare,
The snapping crackle from teh bar
Beyond the sun, beyond the great Bear,

It is a glare, a flame, a sun,
A well, a reservoir, a spring,
Pouring through channels of our soul,
And every border marks an opening.