Travelling with Milton

"How came you so wise?" she asked.
How could I tell her?
I have known no true hardship-
No hunger of the belly,
My skin raw to the wind,
My body wracked with the lash
Nor bruised with stones.
No horror in my waking moments past the anguish of us all,
Poised with the knowledge of eventual death.
"How came you so wise?" she asked.
I could not answer her.
'I am none' I want to cry,
'I stumble, chasing after the lights in the darkness'
I have known no true despair-
Wrapped in the cloak of my parent's love,
My sister's care a charm about my neck,
My friendship linked in mail across my heart.
My grandmother encircling my brow with her wings.
No loneliness to sigh its way through my nights,
but the sharp ache of solitude we each feel of our last moment.
"How came you so wise?" she asked
I felt the tears fall steaming on my breast.
Because my rage was deep,
All pain my pain.
I walked the Christ-path, when my youth was slain.
I ate the words of all mankind
as though they were the fruit of truth,
the poison and the pomegranate alike,
Seeking to fill the empty pages of my soul.
I drained the cup of lies,
And at the very bottom of the draught,
I learned the truth.
I wept into the night and begged forgiveness,
For even the smallest sin was as a boulder on my heart.
"How came you so wise?" she asked.
And I answered her thusly-
'One day, I met a youth upon the path,
And without a word he beat me,
Without a sound he broke me,
and I knew the injustice of Strength without Compassion.
The next day, I met a man upon the path,
And without a thought I beat him,
Without a qualm I broke him,
And I knew the sickness of Vengeance without Righteousness.
I rescued the old man from the river,
And berated him for building his house on the other shore-
And cursed myself with the sin of Mercy without Patience.
I lay with the old woman dying,
Feeding her the last of my bread,
And finally knew that Peace came of Loving Sacrifice.
I met a woman upon the path,
Who's face was radiant, who's body shone,
And I learned that the eyes of Jealousy are as blue as my own.
The rains came down, and she crumbled into dust,
And my strong sandals rose her in small clouds about my feet.
I learned Courage was to be alone in the inky black,
And Acceptance without Fear.
Until I came to the gate at the City of Ages.
"Come you in, " they cried from the walls,
"If you are pure!"
And I crossed not the threshold,
Having been both Betrayer and Betrayed.
"Come you in," they called from their palaces,
"If you are learned!"
But I stirred no foot,
For my Ignorance propels my wanderings, and I cannot deny it.
"Come you in," they begged from the streets,
"For you are worthy!"
But I had seen Pride blacken the faces of the Damned,
And strove to cleanse my own with Clarity.
Now we sit in the still light of the morning,
Limbs entangled and dreaming of that place of splendor,
And your dear face turns to me,
Your eyes darken with a question,
Your fingers brush the hair from my eyes,
Confusion from my heart.
"How came you so wise?" you ask,
And I prepare no answer,
Knowing that truth comes from the blank slate,
Not the full one.
I cannot claim it, my love.
Solomon asked for the crown of Wisdom,
And it tarnished in his Pride.
So I clothe myself of my own devising,
Weave garments of love that I give freely off my back,
Baring the scars of my trespasses,
Praying to add no more.
Until the day I can return naked to the City,
And feel no shame at my nakedness,
The marks of the brambles of Eden,
Worn as an honor,
When the gates open at last.