by Gary Sackett
Believing you, I follow
blindly, passionately, loving.
I touch your essence, knowing, feeling.
My race to grace continues each day,
The day that I don’t.
It all goes wrong, the fear.
Angrily doubt of my ability, curse the very olive branch of my, existence.
Causes not, to my eyes do I see,
the very angst of possibilities, that you have a plan beyond,
my scope, my ability, to see the way, of,
A mustard seed?
Today, its smaller than that.
I realize you are not dead, resting inside my head,
the opportunity for me to see, distance in space.
Micro, macro, causes
put it into place, your day, your pace
time and relevance.
This page, a moment in time, so small, so big.
Your stairway to heaven was planted.
The raging waters hit the boulders,
as it does, waterfalls,
your own shoulders, time is nothing.
Crashing, falls, settles.
Eddies in your mind, finding its way,
babbling brooks, seeking.
For it’s through the swamps, clarity be.
The spring you drink from in one day?
Distress is brief, compared,
momentary, fraction, can change.
Choices, stories, ask.
Drop, ripple, flow,