I tremble like the earth quaking.
Pyramids of sun and moon,
Wherefore art thou?
Eternal triangles confabulating
evidence of life and aspects unseen,
confirming a heartbeat
and yet conspiring with its faithlessness—
for so grateful am I for life as to die for it
that if religion is faith in the face of its absence,
then time is the measure of the constancy of its necessity.
as the soul traverses the darkness of the universe,
I know its unity by its past and present devotions,
I know it as an atom knows a molecule, I know it as an omniscient cell,
I know it as teeming bacteria know to congregate in bands,
As a wind chime knows the sound of its own bell,
as the current moves a river or a thought spills a rivulet of tears,
As the millions of minuscule waves in a great wave lashing the shore, as the perfect cessation of fear,
Through the darkness closing over a summer forest,
In the lift of a butterfly’s wing at dawn,
In spite and because of the lightning percolating across a great, black sky.
I know it in the art of play and song.
It is all You:
You whose sole cause and consequence,
is timelessness itself,
You whose ancient handiwork threw into bright relief the rich puppetry of life,
You whose love loves for the sake of love itself,
You healer and wielder of the merciful knife alike
You who dwells in the eaves
of the kingdom of heaven on earth,
You in the burning bowels of the Earth,
You in the Sun,
You in The Moon.
You who makes the Rain come forth.
It is all You, My Lord.