Grace

December 5, 2012

When everything is taken for granted:
Death to progress.
You and I in isolation,
Stripped of these securities
Find a bedrock.
We have always been naked.
From nakedness may
You find abandonment.
We cling
To something hiding.
Loss awakens me, yet

One can take only so much at one time.
Hope for the interludes
Or for a cleansing
When dormant trees with empty arms
Burdened with atmosphere
Stand.
Grey is a quiet color.
And God spreads his back over the earth
To shelter from a dying sun.

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