(“Little Gidding” by T.S. Eliot, rewritten)
She came here by night,
My broken queen
To the border of her kingdom
And the wastelands I inhabit
Growing between us, between two lives :
A thicket of thorns and roses
And only dimly perceived,
The pain blooming on my fingertips
From my fumbled offerings.
Gleaming in the darkness,
The eyes of a ghost
A face, still forming
Our bodies compliant
To the shared chill
And too strange to each other
For misunderstanding
I said: “The wonder that I feel of you
Is easy. Therefore speak;
Though I may not understand,
I may not remember.
If you came here by night,
My broken queen
You are not here to dominate,
Stake your rule, or subjugate
You are here to seek forgiveness
And relief from the rending pain
Of reenactment
Of all you have done, and been,
To your weary subjects
And seek silence from the approval of fools
And the honor you know to be hollow.”
And she: “I am not eager to repeat my thoughts and theory
Which you have forgotten.
These things have served their purpose;
Let them be.
For last year’s words belong to last year’s language
And next year’s words
Await another voice.
If you came here by night,
My broken liege
You are not here to verify,
Inform yourself, or satisfy
Curiosity
You are here to kneel
To purify your motives
In the ground of your beseeching
In this place where prayer still echoes meaning.”
And all shall be well
And all manner of things shall be well
When we are both filled
By the expansion of love beyond desire or dominion,
United in the strife that divided us
All shall be well
And all manner of things shall be well
In the intersection of the timeless moment
Here and nowhere, never and always
All shall be well
And all manner of things shall be well
My Name Is Trinity 