Geestesvlucht

met smartelijk geknars vliedt het gruis
door de nauwe hals van de zandloper;
blind en zonder erbarmen graaft de tijd haar eigen
graf --

vanuit een eenzame duintop, langzaam zinkend
in de ruisende rimpeling van het drijfzand, wacht
als een jonge kievit, onze geest op het sublieme
ogenblik -

glijdend over de wervelende thermiek voert zijn
vleugelspan hem langszij de ijdele smachten
aftekenend op de hemelspiegel -

maar

hij verzaakt aan alle verleidingen
en de roes dat brandt in zijn kruis
en hem zou verstikken in de schilfers
van zijn eigen vergankelijkheid.

immers

zijn roeping ligt voorbij de glans, doorheen
alle kerkers, waar de poolster wenkt, en de
horizon danst met vuur.










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