can palm-shaped architecture propel
my pathetic prayers into space?
can my selfish schemes compel
meaningful conversation to take place?
is exchange with eternity one way?
i stumble in silence, little now to say.
once wanted, eternal engagement,
beyond oceans, skies and stars –
now an agnostic estrangement
robs meaning from memoirs;
measured, less certain my hopes –
were one-time treasures vain tropes?
calibration not quite complete,
clock cogs need some cleaning;
few days when I willingly greet
maker of mercy and meaning;
time transparent, firm friend forever,
pain might push my palms together…
My head was all tangled in seaweed at the bottom of the sea where the mountains take root. I was as far down as a body can go, and the gates were slamming shut behind me forever— Yet you pulled me up from that grave alive, O God, my God! – Jonah 2: 5 – 7