Woven Grace

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.


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