I wish there was something,
other than the fragility of this moment’s sense,
about which I could be comfortable,
at least until the feeling relents
into a thought of spring or resurrection
for my soul to sing somewhere.
Who can give such a blessing in the present tense? (and)
How can it be held as a defense
to the immense ephemeral experience of being human?
It must be only grace will save us;
amazing grace redeem us.
But how is it sent?
How is it received?
First, it must be accepted and believed
so that in our fiat
the word and the light might be conceived and
the moments of emptiness no longer grieved
but rather lost to the weave eternity leaves.