It was a Holy moment,
The breaking of the bread
The drinking of the wine
The passing of the peace
In reverent liturgy.
It was a Holy moment
It is finished”
Taking the torture for me
My heart so hard.
Doing it anyway.
The moment waits. Auspicious,
In quiet pursuit, wanting,
Or unable, by my wooden head,
To bring the mystery to bear
As it should on my soul.
It circles the edge of my soul
Trying to enter
To bring reason and order
To the confusing themes
Of everyday life.
But I miss
Grasping the pierced hands.
Clinging to my own marred
Dreams of ambition.
Slipping t’wards oblivion.
So I remain, holding
My own fate in my deformed claws
Grasping at straws while
Eternity waits
Ever so patiently waits.
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