Once,
while in winter years,
those of foundation-falling and rebuilding,
I was in my basement room;
and while reading mystic writing,
nothing too exciting, just Madame Guyon,
I was suddenly caught up
in a physical feeling of bliss.
Like nothing I'd ever felt before
it started with my core,
and with its sudden force,
my jaw dropped wide and stayed there,
I could make no sound at all,
my body slid, overpowered, to the floor.
It came as I was reading,
of His fiercely jealous love,
of how He will cover us with abasement,
to keep us wholly to Himself.
Now I understand a little of
the 'Ecstacy of St. Teresa';
however brief, it was a monument,
a lighthouse on the sea.
Once, I was in ecstacy.