Poetry As Prayer

Poetry as prayer is given in a daily way
In hope of insight bright
Yet even more in hope of afterglow
From the passage of the years
Legacy being a far too heavy word.

The issue seems to be life's market
Where time and money almost govern all
Poetry seems to be the exception of this greater day
That steadily takes nuns from us
In visions of a richer plane.

We vote with time and ink and money
For what we truly hold to be
The vision of reality and sometimes
God will grant a prayer
We don't know how it works or where.

So given that each breath is gift
That comes in daily power from afar
I'll celebrate with ink and paper
The sad madness of it all
And publish feeble lines for free
That celebrate God's majesty
Beyond this darkling plane.

by Bill Grace

Comments (1)

That last line just does it for me somehow. It's perfect. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. Now we live on a darkling plane, but someday...it might be different :)