The Kind you Canít Blow Out
You know how I love a slivered moon
nestled in the horizon
like the curved side of forever?
It says look beyond what you see,
see the circle still and even better
shadowed in grace.
Continuance bubbles and does not break,
but changes ache to smile and breath to sigh.
We can even measure it with the beat of the drum
that foretells dance from shore to desert sand
and fills the minute with meter,
for this is evidence of the sprit of forever.
The slivered moon makes me brand new,
yet, ancient in some layered time
that has whispered in dreams
of many moons,
a time that is fluid
and at the same time light as air,
where color has no name
and a song sings itself.
Is this the place where
grace is born?
I have felt it simmer in my heart
and I hear its laced call
fill my listening
as a child whispers her laughter
down the stairs of knowing.
And so I just know
that love never dies,
that souls hold all the candles
and they are the kind
you canít blow out.