Monday, October 17, 2016

In the mystery most

Beauty moving across the worlds.

Chincoteague, October 2016

When we reach across the misty edge
where minds meander--as humans must,
          we're gardenless.

Our fingers point outstretched in
to leaning, losing mortal balance
          almost, by this edging closer.

For God is in the mystery most
and likenesses near, trembling, love
         as Eve did

and Job, lean just so far: the bridge--
like this, like this--the living parable:
         word made flesh.