The mystery of father, son and spirit being one
—touching the soul, being the soul—
now lonely but joyous,
lost between infinities
seeking an end to anxiety—
it’s why her love fills me with dance.
The band on stage playing for us.
The radio on in another room, playing for us.
Our soft tones, only between us,
contain everything and nothing.
A Paris Cafe and Pacific Sunset all at once,
just for us—like our flesh—confident
it’s enough our hearts just taste that moment
the wonder of God no longer surprises
Copyright 2008, held by author