“The Enneagram can help us develop an awareness for our future and destiny, for that true face that we do not yet ‘have,’ but that already slumbers deep down inside us.” -Richard Rohr and Andreas Ebert, The Enneagram: A Christian Perspective
PART I Where are you, MR. SP4CEM4N? You’re here, but are you here? Surrounded by love on this Christmas Eve, but you’re lost inside a dream. The love of your life in your arms tonight, but you’re swimming in a fantasy. I saw an astronaut down on Church Street; he kept on singing to the moon. Did you see me right in front of you, the stack of letters in my hand, the basket of prayers I bled for you, my love spread out across the sky? All swallowed in the moonlight. Where are you, MR. SP4CEM4N? You’re here, but are you here? Your future right in front of you, but you’re lost in all you’ve lost. Melancholy and Despair— the enemies of an optimist are the best friends of an artist. So I found you past the wall and brought you to my cave— this place where most men never leave, but you kept looking for the moon; this place where I escaped your sky, but I’m still swallowed in the moonlight. Where are you, MR. SP4CEM4N? You’re here, but are you here? I can’t say that I blame you for being the way you are. Was it the first defeat or the last that sent the capsule into space— your hope, your love, your faith aboard— your heart to be reclaimed? You don’t have to go, but you will, convinced this world is not your home, that you’re too different to belong. Just know that dreams are wonderful things but horrific when attained. Time to launch, Mr. 5PACEMAN. I guess I’ll wait here in the moonlight. PART II Where are you, MR. 5PACEMAN? What goes up must come down. But when will you come down from that inner world you’re living in where your head neglects your heart, where your wisdom drowns your intimacy? I saw a monk down on Davidson. He wasn’t singing to the moon but his eyes were white like zombies, and he was talking to himself. He was punching at his shadow and humming the Te Deum: “In te, Dómine, sperávi,” he groaned. “Non confúndar in ætérnum!” Where are you, MR. 5PACEMAN? What goes up must come down. But when will you come down from that space you’d die protecting— fixated on that Tree in Eden— so you don’t have to feel a thing? So I found you in the wreckage, police lights in your eyes, three words on your lips, and for a second you touched reality. Separated by a glass wall, your heart was bursting to break through. Don’t stop trying to break through. Where are you MR. 5PACEMAN? What goes up must come down. I can’t say that I blame you for being the way you are. You need your wonderful world to investigate and learn and explore but we also need you in ours. More than your mind, we need your heart. You have to go, and you will. Don’t forget: this world is still your home. Don’t forget: you always belong. If knowledge is not shared, then what’s the point of learning? Time to return, MR. 5P4CEMAN, so that you can launch again and again.
This poem was first published on copelandwrites.com.
By Stephen Copeland