So many with the
best of intentions have loved,
have embraced the
sacred moment of themselves,
have vowed in sincerity
commitment to the
witness of their words.
—
Time alters none
but the truth,
No matter how consummated
we become,
being, with or without
luxury, in the face of God.
—
Somehow we become
lost.
It is not our plan.
No one said, "let
us be lost
from ourselves."
(Erosion is a quiet
persistent force
- a pulling at the
reins -
while we pretend
we're still the same,
desperately clinging
to another moment
before the flood
is gone.)
Now, reconstituted
from the dregs
Into these shiny
pebbles in the sand
Ground from some
forgotten mountain,
Conjured from passions
rising deep within,
We are thrust beyond, into the greater grasp.
in a prayer for well being, lloyd marbet,
4/15/01