The Secret Splendour

When He went abroad,

He covered the great glow

Which proved Him to be Lord:

He went incognito,

And by His magic framed

A myriad alibi

And took the devious different roads

That are you and I.

He travels without noise,

Invisible even by day,

 But leaving everywhere

Footprints upon our clay.

Sometimes He meets Himself—

Then folks light up and love,

 Not understanding what immense

 Secrecies move

Their tiny hands and mouths

To treasure in sealed touch

The joy they fear would scatter and fade

If they spoke too much.

But ever the one soulless word

Is spoken and again

The gleams are shadows that diverge—

 Footprints remain.

8.10.41

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