We do not yet know him (poem) by dan Rosenhagen on AuthorsDen

We do not yet know him
by dan Rosenhagen → (All Poetry by dan Rosenhagen)
Rated "G" by the Author.

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To love without the knowledge of love.
We do not yet know him A kind hearted and compassionate man spoke to a gathering of his friends and neighbors, in his attempt to give them faith and hope, comforting them during a troubled time. He articulated stories and teachings from a religious book which he used as examples to help his friends. The crowd focused their attention on his interpretation of what was written. Then a man spoke up saying; I do not understand how you can see the things you see from what has been written, as they were not meant to be looked at in such a way, and then the man left. Another quite excited man loudly shouted; you have no right to say these things that you say, and he then walked away from the now restless group. A woman asked; how can you say things that are not written in this book, and how can you justify your words? And then the man spoke; this book is not mine, nor is it yours. In it are the words of man. And man’s words are the sounds of mortals. I spoke tonight of the words in this book as I knew of it to be the book of your faith. In your tempests I attempted to elevate your realizations using the beauty of your book and expanding its sacred meanings so as you all could see how you fold into its beauty and unfold into the reality of what you are. The woman scowled; you are evil. You are the devil, and she then ran off. The man then faced the small mass of people and proclaimed; I have come here to give my heart in your need. But you are consumed in the ego of your beliefs, as do two men pull at opposite ends of a rope to prove their strength and righteousness. Your book holds the love and wisdom of life. But what man holds the key to unlock its wisdom? You who worship this book, would it be alive but then to die for the holder to tighten his grip and smother its intentions? And if its wisdom were to try to escape its bindings like the release of a cage full of birds, which of you, oh crowd of men, would murder them, then collecting back their feathers in their hour of truth on the threshold of light’s door? But you then, the hero who has kept the sacred flame burning within its confines, in a place where you can hold it still, in front of your face, to be studied and mastered, allthewhile the winged wisdom of its soul touches the depth of God, so far beyond the place of man’s justice, the clanking of his chains cannot be heard but only then to rust and turn to dust. It has been written that to see God one would then die from his glorious power and beauty. But it is only because,…………………… we do not yet know him.