The Meeting

Poem by Reg Naulty

In the soul’s deepest recesses
there is a meeting like winds passing
and beholding each other
in mutual rapture.
‘You are here at last,’ breathes the soul
in welcome, ‘you have come’.

There is no need for questions,
presence surpasses explanations,
the one sought is found.
The soul is now ready for the confounded,
the querulous, the doubters, and the interested polite:
it will show what ingenuity and metaphor can devise.

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