That night you cut out my heart
with a twist I could never have expected
and rushed off to make some appearance
you had convinced yourself you must make,

A million turning memories of you sailing
off to do "God's work" overcame me. I could see
through tears the shipwrecked dreams repeating
and still you telling yourself the same old story...

Meanwhile, keeping up appearances
while locking up secrets of all the time, attention
you apparently had to give to everyone but me.
You forever turn your back on me and I search

Far horizon endlessly for your return, trusting
in divine time you will show up right in front of me when  
I least expect it. I long ago tired of making appearances,
only go where my true heart's home leads me.

You, so long absent, have made many appearances
in my dreams as the disappearing ghost who wants
nothing of me. I have become accustomed to you lingering,
ever entrenched in your preference for absence.

God's work is Love that's true . I know there is no
higher calling than to demonstrate responsibility
to such truth and show up for the only thing that's left
when we leave this life and, standing before God,

Make our appearance, revealed for the resonance we
have been with life, the love that is a lighted lamp for this world.
I wonder then if it will matter at all: all the appearances you
managed to made and one you were so careful to avoid?