how can it fall to reason alone
to memorize the webbing of dreams
we are incapable.but
I have heard the nightingale trill
deep in the conifers of His will;
the mirrored forest, the music that mirrors them too
we did not fashion the green and blue
nor the scent of roses. the high tide gleam of the swans.
dazzling we know are the moon and the stars
the peripheries of where we are
when we drift in sleep above the maytime
unless Christ mold the ship there is no sea
imagined or in reality that we can cross
proud in our uber technical skill
only the Cross, only the Cross is brightest
surest, swiftest, Cygnus
from the Hill
on which He hung
to save us, still.
mary angela douglas 5 july 2023
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