Hard to Believe!

Hard to believe, but right now somewhere, Athos I picture, there may be a man who touches all with his sight, has all that could ever be wanted by pining lovers, anxious Americans, silly writers, quarreling couples, and penitent worshippers.
His death will be his truly, and Christ's-a choice he and Christ make to die that we may live.
If he showed us his face, this great globe and its surrounding cloud of stars would burn like a flower an inch from the sun.
For us he dies, fasts, chooses to walk rocky paths, smiles with dimples and stays quiet when the pilgrims bow.
"If you wanted, you could be with me. And you do want this, you just don't know it. The most outer of spaces is in your heart. The morning star mingles with your freckles. That tiny ache in your breast is swallowing the world."
And this man breathes the same air, eats the same food, as the politicians, the academics, the movie critics, the bartenders, the movie stars, the newspaper reporters, the bloggers, the murderers. In the same world, but not of it.
Hard to believe, but we could be him, if only we would choose what we want.