take butter knives to butterflies
alight mid-flight in a *** set to simmer

a concentration, clarification
dressed in Sunday best, their golden wings glimmer

settling susurrus, a flurry aflutter
a conga of monarchs one after the other

taste buds taking two-steps to make room for more
the doe-eyed processions march in counts of four

map our trail in starbursts
kaleidoscopic eclipses in the sky

cosmos dripping from my paintbrush
stroking "what"s and stippling "why"s

questions, chromatic aberrations
a twinkle dancing in my eyes

a pause in time
my lips profess a parting, not goodbye

I rest my head on the palm of Your hand,
warming myself in its merciful folds

where promising promises of promised lands
nostalgically echo a Love foretold.

spiritual striation light my path
a focused array too hazy to grasp

my grip soft like putty
sand slips through the cracks

my hands unaccustomed
still grace everlasts

a flammable affinity,
emblazoned for The Trinity.

we pray our perishable parish
won't expire 'til infinity.

mere moths swarming at The Source of Light--
fettered and fattened,
hatchlings born battened
to bonds of sin--
our ancestral birthright.