A bird disappears into a forest
and a song emerges, unseen.
Worms work their alchemy
in darkness beyond me.
Laborers tend shops and flowers
in the city of me.
I don’t know their names.
The city thrives.
Music rises from its streets.
I open the doors of myself
to the blackness within
and You enter to pray.
[Romans 8.26]
—July 24, 2017