Poem November 30, 1974 Issue

UNCALENDARED

Peter J. Henniker-Heaton

Man has no hour of birth, no natal moment
when stars inclement
can fasten upon him some dark implacable fate.
From before the world's foundation
he has held his station
in the presence of God—individual, whole, complete.

Man has no hour of death, no mortal minute
that stores within it
some physical program coded to drive him hence.
Idea in infinite Mind,
having neither beginning nor end,
man coexists with divine intelligence.

Man does not come nor go; but under Love's care and favor
he lives forever,
his spiritual substance eternal, unimpaired.
From horizon to horizon
each appearing in its season,
he walks in Spirit, unclocked, uncalendared.

Peter J. Henniker-Heaton

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