The mystery and nature of love surrounds us. Wonder fills me. Martin Buber's I and Thou begins by declaring that the world is twofold.When there is a deep connection between the other and man, the divine is present, I-thou. When man sees the other as an object, than the world is perceived as I-It. I looked into the eyes of my baby boy, and I understood God. God beyond our ideas of God. The God that is love touched me. I have no idea of how long we looked into each others' eyes. The moment was real. When Buber wrote that in I and Thou, the other fills our being, I thought it was poetry and not reality. I was wrong. It is poetry and real. I look into my sons eyes and I experience my son as filling my whole being. Yet, there is a mutual emptying out of ourselves in love. I know this is grace, for if I try to recreate it, it will slip from my hands. Any attempt to control it jerks me back into the world of I-it. The world of thou occurs as a revelation. It can only be expressed dimly through poetry. Like a
kaleidescope, the shapes turn within our minds and we are dazzled by color, shape, and wonder. Revelation unfolds its red petals in the light of awareness. It follows the sun as a yellow sunflower. Faith becomes a guiding hand. It is as real as any experience; it just moves beyond language, shattering words as drops of rain hitting the nakedness of reality.
God's hand caresses us even in our unawareness. Grace is the only word we have for it. I gaze into the eyes of my son, and Jesus touches me. Ask me for proof, and I can only give you poetry. Such is the nature of love. And why we write poetry.