I thought iambic pentameter might
help me solve the riddle of the deity.
I would use any poetic form
that might help bring me
closer to God.
The wisdom of the past,
whatever the ancient ones knew,
seems to have slipped past me
without my understanding.
A walk on the beach in morning lifting fog
showed me something different.
I felt a heat behind the fog
and considered how,
with such heavy clothing on me,
my brow would soon begin trickling.
Then a break, a widening of circular blue,
emerged from the shroud, a prompting
to peel my careful layering.
I see others coming to the shore,
stripping their dream blankets
and brightly colored terry cloth robes.
They must see sand crystals
begin to sparkle in this fresh light,
where all had been plain
and common in the previous hour.
This is the meter I should study,
this play of dark abruptly
changing to glowing light.