I confess You elude me a bit In the signs others see: In the clothing-just-so, In the particulars of gesture, In the murmurations Both – they say – ancient And the clearly new. It is a code immune to my gentle explorations. But I sense You in the Hands held, In the Godly cascade Of names Chanted through all time, spilling through laced fingers, over altars, beyond slippers, joining the holy flow toward the eternal, fruitful Tree.
Approaching the Temple
I confess You elude me a bit In the signs others see: In the clothing-just-so, In the particulars of gesture, In the murmurations Both – they say – ancient And the clearly new. It is a code immune to my gentle explorations. But I sense You in the Hands held, In the Godly cascade Of names Chanted through all time, spilling through laced fingers, over altars, beyond slippers, joining the holy flow toward the eternal, fruitful Tree.