As I once told you
Sitting there, avoiding moths
On the patio, sipping coffee
And wishing I were done,
There is hope yet.
From the outset
We were given light
And taught truth.
If we get it right
We don't have to
Run
Back into little holes
Of despair.
As he once told me,
The world has a new lens
For the pure in heart
Torn apart from the
A gnosis
Of the last part of
The song.
And birds may know that
Patience
Leads to French fries
In accordance with gumption.
As you once told him,
Life is more than chasing eyelids
In the backyard, hearing voices
Which call you to your promises.
It holds more of a
Lot of choices
And the inlet
Let in the old, grim
Spicing of a new day--
And you knew it
More than sparrows know fries.
As He once told us,
There is a part of every day
Which becomes
Imitation
In a good way.
Shine light on squinting eyelids
And be eager as a finch
With a French fry.
Hope is no secular
Word
But among the greatest of these.
And coffee burns the tongue
Into contrition
And the voice in the backyard
Holds us not to our word
But itself to its own promises.
While we're young
We speak like birds.
postscript
We live too much in a state completely unaware that we are forgiven. We drown in our sin and need to be reminded that we are innocent. Indeed--we need to receive like children. Or like sparrows to french fries.