It's all been cut,
the entire series of stories
I set out to collect.
No apologies either,
just a straight telling
as it is:
this greatest show
cannot be found
by searching.
For the story
is recollecting you
and will only return
to an empty heart
which knows it cannot hold
the feather-light
humility of rain
and yet will die trying,
entranced by one pink bloom
drenched in this eternal spring.
Lead me always, my Lord. Let every moment of life be a message of loving thanks remembered like the breath with which You have all owed…
The light is overflowing everywhere, between the trash and tragedy and endless glory of every bow before the retreating water of this…
If you find that you're lost, consult the unifying structure