Burning Bush

Burning Bush

Whoever gazes in the sky

might see dragons floating by

becoming towers, birds, or apes””

every minute changing shapes.

Just for a moment, look away,

then try to find, again, your way

to what you had imagined there

and now is only wisps and air.

It’s also hard to recognize

an old acquaintance behind strange eyes.

Shifting forms make all seem strange

as each part makes a different change.

Even the self is the sacrifice

to the river in which no one steps twice.

Despite the change and complexity

of transformations and variety,

a single voice is always calling out

from every face and tree and cloud;

it calls the lion and the lamb,

it calls us all and says,

“I am!”