Moon Sense
Like a wilted follower,
a silhouetted flower,
I stand beneath
a poem of moon,
its fiery grin
large enough
to swallow
the stone globe
highlighted by lips
of inky sky.
broad smile of God--
small glint
of origin
and fulfillment--
hope is the fuel of gravity
its embers
flecks of hot pink heat.
I know at moonset
that God is energy—
that light, objective truth,
is a sign of reaching out--
I witness the physics of
rebirth—the collision
between life and death--
its incumbent exit of light--
microcosm of
universe,
one word:
Being--
God’s own fiction.
I am grateful for light—
our hunger for its perfect
metaphor in our lives.
Light is the love between
Creator and creature,
energy and matter.
Love is the Way across the chaos.
Like a wilted follower,
a silhouetted flower,
I stand beneath
a poem of moon,
its fiery grin
large enough
to swallow
the stone globe
highlighted by lips
of inky sky.
broad smile of God--
small glint
of origin
and fulfillment--
hope is the fuel of gravity
its embers
flecks of hot pink heat.
I know at moonset
that God is energy—
that light, objective truth,
is a sign of reaching out--
I witness the physics of
rebirth—the collision
between life and death--
its incumbent exit of light--
microcosm of
universe,
one word:
Being--
God’s own fiction.
I am grateful for light—
our hunger for its perfect
metaphor in our lives.
Light is the love between
Creator and creature,
energy and matter.
Love is the Way across the chaos.