And if all of heaven came down
crashing the night through
resplendent resound
Would it matter much at all
or whisper too faint a call?
to see angels dance around
detached but heavenbound
void of pain and fear
free of struggle and toil
absent death and spear
Is that Then even the point at all?
Or another long moment
clung to creation's breast
still shaking from the fall?
the kind that drains me dry
gloriously wrung of all I could be
and of everfailing try
holy ended, divinely free
Would heaven matter at all
if all of heaven could fall
right into this moment of dread with me?
too much to hold
and yet in its stead:
a curse, a pain, a fear
a gnawing dread
human craft,
skinwrapped diviner, image of He
beginning to beginning,
brother made to me.
Heaven needt not fall tonight
for my prayers, sagged with doubt,
burst empty -
the (w)holiest of tongues throughout
Keep the saints
Hold the night
Bind my prayers
that I might see burning Light.
until my heart forgets the way
and somehow stumbles into holy, this:
I in you and you in me,
et cetera, etc.
(image: Christ of the Abyss, by vmg8383, licensed by CC 2.0)