We are anything but finite
Or alone!
After all the petals of proof
Are here in our hearts,
Are they not?

And however lengthily
Deflated or tortured
By our own frail selves,
Or even at the hands or others,
Inviolate, intractable,
At the core of our being,
The very prism
Of sanctity and self remains.

And latent there forever
The quick silvered opportunity
Of redemption,
To become enchanted again.

Sublime moments refracted,
Even if only for seconds,
Caught forever in your soul.