always am i to drown in peace.
in soft, drifting clam my waves increase.
for but the sky is warmly pink
does hope within me tremble and sink.
in this balmy, swaying stream
does all breath within me wail and scream.

what hidden tempest spirals within,
whose stillness shakes me more than wind?
how often does this havoc reign,
from clouds above with acid pain?
oh secret storm in shattered soul,
that i could never feign control-
may pleading mercy pierce your eye,
and spare this wreckage that is my life.

---

we are mere inches-a slight sway-
from the place were all colors
and depths are washed away.
less than seconds from the day
when all lines and curves will fail,
leaving only what we could never say.

---

if there were subway lines
that ran into each of us,
do you think God would ride them?

no, i think it would be more like
when a child picks up
a stubborn pillbug, and smiles.

---

we're small-
we are so small
the sapling trees
could crush us with their feet,
the Springtime drizzle
could fold us onto our knees,
the breeze
light blue and grassy
could pick us up
and hang us
from the clouds.

---

if then for just one moment
the vast cities of our feet converge,
or the streets of our fingers intersect
(never slowing down),
or we enter the dense tunnel between our eyes,
or in taking an elevator towards embrace-

for just one moment:

(one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty twenty-one twenty-two twenty-three twenty-four twenty-five twenty-six twenty-seven twenty-eight twenty-nine thirty thirty-one thirty-two thirty-three thirty-four thirty-five thirty-six thirty-seven thirty-eight thirty-nine fourty fourty-one fourty-two fourty-three fourty-four fourty-five fourty-six fourty-seven fourty-eight fourty-nine fifty fifty-one fifty-two fifty-three fifty-four fifty-five fifty-six fifty-seven fifty-eight fifty-nine sixty)

we stand together atop a lonely green hill.

---

molten hands pouring into each other
brace to form a sweating steel heart.
this heart, our hands, shall beat
every day into a wide and sturdy shield,
shall sharpen every night
into a cold, blue knife.

---

no faltering voice will sway my hope,
nor dimming lights obstruct my sight,
for golden choice in worthless night
is worth what darkness i must fight.

and when by choice i grasp His rope,
and by His faith i'm flown across,
then i will count my life as loss-
i will come to life beneath His cross.

---