Hoping to Hope: James Adamson

To the Glory of God
To Gwyneth with Love

Some people are afraid of things they do not understand
Some people invite mystery into their lives
Love is all creation and it’s the smallest you can imagine
A man lifting a huge boulder
A fly going through a pane of glass
To look into the night sky or at the horizon
Telling stories to confuse and stories to entrance
Rubbing your hand back over your head
Picking at the skin on your finger
Trying to engage in reality
Smiling with mirth or panicking in the face of death
Seeing all creation in a small piece of wood
Telling people there is direction in the world
Skin from a sunburn flake off
New skin arises
What presents itself can only be what it is
through the contrition of your understanding
Fear that’s like a rock flying from your hand
And you just noticed
Like you’re full of personalities you never knew
Doubt rocking you like flying from your hand the talk of mystery
like looking for your wallet
Deeply you can’t cope as if a tiger runs through the grass
Submission makes it a friend
That leaves into the limitless thoughts of your mind
Danger becomes a friend and infinite smiles are all in one moment
Everything you can see could be either of two opposites
Everyone defies leadership while evil needs to prove it doesn’t exist
Little children are the definition of needing to prove it’s there
Needing to believe there is something to learn or to prove that nothing really matters
As if you can throw your arm over the shoulder of the night
And either say you love or make plans to never be heard again
It’s not wrong to hold mystery in your hands
Like a baby you can never care for
Because it’s beyond you how you ever will