[after Constantine Cavafy's poem, "Tomb Of Ignatios"]
Thirty years a Christian, I rejoiced in Salvation.
But I have learned it is not only an accomplished fact,
but also a process, a pilgrimage of preparation,
with the gradual and comforting accumulation
of that of which I was unaware, or lacked
(due to fault, flaw, and inherent perfidy)
when I heard my Savior's voice call unto me,
to come unto Him to be saved.
The mundane world has not, and never will have, engraved
its mark upon my soul, and never will;
for I have answered Christ's call and His glorious name
is written upon my soul.
In His care, my inward chaos is still;
the fragmented jot that I was have been made whole.
My starward motion toward Him is not, nor ever shall be, stalled.
And by His Grace and Mercy I have been called
by the name Starward to praise Him in my poetry.
Starward