all life hangs on a thread of wonder
so many doors they won't walk through
eschewing the gardens that wait for them;
the Emerald City at the end
I don't know how they live.
it shines in everything, invisible worlds
uncurl like ferns and morning glories
golden stories that we love and shores and
what there is to love of vast seas marked unknown
on unaccountable maps, the elusive thread
that winds its way through entire lifetimes
only to begin again
beginning itself, first snows with no footprints yet
oh may my heart not learn to forget
its treasury of sunrise
I will not countenance any other music
all my allusive days and ways; waste it
standing down in darkness,
far from Praise.
mary angela douglas 28 december 2018
