A poem

Meditations on a word, that word is
God,

hold it in still air
let it boldly breathe and build
to see its’ yield,

God
s t r e t c h it out, testing its’ elasticity
its’ capacity to grow
expanding,

G o d

Think of countless numbers of toes stubbed
invoking the word, or invocations to
locate lost keys
or lost love,

God
Reduction reveals its’ simplicity, the mystery
of the divine energies
driving the weary
to pray on wet
wintry days,
God.

CP26