coming into focus

but I have always run away
run like hell.
and how is it that you
have got me to sit still?

and I have always chosen waking dreams,
colorful paper dreams with delicate edges
over the rough-edged half-meltedness of reality

though paper worlds are flat, without
sound, without
scent, without
heat.
until they burn up and are gone.

but it is so strange now
to see this
to not attempt to create or control it
and still to see
it is.

From Buber

"In the signs of life which happens to us we are addressed.
Who speaks?
It would not avail us to give for reply the word 'God', if we do not give it out of that decisive hour of personal existence when we had to forget everything we imagines we knew of God, when we dared to keep nothing handed down or learned or self-contrived, no shred of knowledge, and were plunged into the night.
"When we rise out of it into the new life and there begin to receive the signs, what can we know of that which--of him who gives them to us? Only what we experience from time to time in the signs themselves. If we name the speaker of this speech God, then it is always the God of a moment, a moment God."

"Religion can hide from us as nothing else can the face of God. Principle here, dogma there, behind both lies in wait the war against the situation's power of dialogue, there lies in wait the "once-for-all" which resists the unforeseeable moment."