ho holds in place
the holy shroud
of moon and star
and sun and cloud
that veils
the blameless truth of "why"
behind our sight of seamless sky?


Who calls the heart
by daily grace
to give itself
in trembling trust,
while knowing full
its final fate
will always be
to turn to dust --
yet still,
to rise with every dawn
and place itself
within the care
of that
which answers back its need
to seek its source
through living's prayer.