we know they also know, but they,
like idiot children
who know not their right hands from their left,
who let run to waste
the precious oil of the vials they have broken,
to no profit or even pleasure,
who let fertile fields remain fallow
while plowing and seeding sterile salty sand,
only play
unknowing though they know,
as sleepers dream,
unwanting ever
to awake, and never choose,
as if they want to lose, not win
the game that they imagine,
yet the Way lies open
through the narrow spear slash,
oozing fragrant myrrh.
They are not deaf.
They heard Him cry out words,
Forgive them, for they know.
Not what they do,
but what they do not do,
draws to them and us His mercy, His love.
Yes, we know the Way,
it is mercy, it is love,
yes, love, love, and more love.
For them, and for us,
it is only love that heals.
Yes, we know the way.
— Romanós
