The beatitudes are a loop I start over
Again and
Again.

A good loop, though,
Not a stagnating seether like when
The guy in the car in front of me has a
Brake-to-accelerator time that is so
Incomprehensibly SLOW he just ekes through the
Yellow light and there I am for another
Eternal cycle of cross traffic and left-turners,
And not just that, but one block east, a train comes,
Crawling through at its
City-limits pace that, correct me if I’m wrong,
Is either slowing down or teasing me,
And the graffiti is exotic, but let’s not be
Postive here,
And the caboose must be down in
Good Hope. So I’m caught,
Apoplectic. Because the guy.

No, the Sermon is an
“Oh, Yeah” loop, a start back at the
Beginning that isn’t a regression. An “Oh, wait, let me
Go back and pick that poverty up again and hang on to it
This time.  Seems to be key.”
A loop where
Starting over isn’t starting over.

Oh, yeah, I’m lower than you,
You, who I am
Scorning right at this moment.
Oh, yeah. Judgment turns to humility, right quick.

Oh, yeah, that despicable thing you are doing, I do it
First and worst. Lament. . .Patience.
Starting with, Oh, yeah,
The guy.

Meekness only happens when
I squarely face the
Oh, yeah, I was empty; now I’ve been filled.
“And this not of myself,” but flood waters from the
Sky after
Drought. More than I need, so I can say,
“Take your time, guy,
And did you see that sky?!”

And I hunger, hunger for the wholeness of no
Holes.
Oh, yeah, start again. I am

Destitute, but! The destitution is that
Bait-and-switch of heaven,
That darkness-draped gift of gold.
That one more proof of a love so stunning.
And the loop is a steady line
Toward wholeness,
Holiness.

Oh, yeah.