Sunday, November 20, 2011

Telos

Not god separate, high up, far away,
but body intrinsic, unseen, keenly
felt as a fresh, a sacramental
drink from an underground river,
again tied back, end to beginning,
unnameable, settled in the heart‘s shrine.
The finish of the poem is connection,
as a needle through the tapestry, pulling up
beautiful thread, not every possible thing,
but a holy assurance, a spreading revelation.

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