Those are the deeper things,

the things which I will always be unable to

see,

touch,

understand,

embody.

How many times I've tired and

I've tried to get it right--

only finding that in trying

there is no success.

No- it's in the ebb and flow--

the current unchanging, and the simplicity of happening:

peace,

grace,

love--

that I am changed.

Grace: "refusal to leave me as he finds me,"

"to validate any identity other than his for me."

And so I must question of the son: Are

my wings made of wax?

Or will I find that instead it is the

fears,

death,

arrows

that melt away, as I chase the daylight?

I find myself believing that there is more now,

yet the importance I cannot recognize.

Are we now focused on the pinholes,

or am I seeing a chasm with a microscope?

Find in me--

love.

And in grace, I will carry on.

To love, sacrifice, and thrive.

To take, measure, and dwell.

Be looking on, for the destination is yet unknown.

Yet the paradise of mystery is greater than the purest ocean.

"This is here and this is now,

An unfamiliar peace to me."