Third Man Syndrome

Antarctic scientists, polar explorers and free climbers all know Him

But none better than I 

Weirdly enough, they only see Him in darkness and despair

They see Him when lost in blizzards or scaling glaciers with broken legs 

They see Him in the space between life and death

For them, He led the way to shelter

And talked them through impossible climbs

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For others, they find Him at a golden dome in Canaan 

Or at the foot of Sinai

In a bush that was engulfed in flames, but never burnt

They saw Him in the black plumes of smoke from Sodom or Gomorrah

They saw Him in the portable tents of congregation 

For them, He is the King of the universe

And chose them as His people 

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For others, He walked out of the flames that spread West

Or in the minds of Versailles 

They saw Him frown in showers speckled across Poland and France 

They saw Him collect the dirty abandoned shoes, weeping for what did burn

For them, He was their cause of death

And their savior 

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For me, He isn’t any type of king

Not even a person like I

I see Him in the bread I break and the wine I spill

I see Him in pink sunsets and in wry smiles

For me, He is the blessings that surround me everyday

And I will always listen for His voice, my Third Man.

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