The fragments can be shattering.
Obliterated and obscured,
The broken tree and the bent knee
The mercy in so many pieces.
They say the flightless with faith are finally
Love is the omnipotent gift
and presence to be seen,
In these endless corridors,
Upon the wings of those that believe.
there is always something lingering within hope.
In the scope
of doubt in the dark.
I’m on a help line with an angel in a dream,
I hang up the telephone after we talk and then maybe
I’ll wake and believe that this deity will no longer grieve.
when we fall under the fuselage of oneself