Just we, inflamed by lust
still pine with hungry hearts
for something we may never
understand, we beneath the font
of purest grace, led by hope
that God may be defined.
And what is this...not God?
And where?
There is the wondering...
The soul is the only place to look.
But then, you won't get
a definitive guide there.
Nor is it fair.
No, not fair. Not...
Is not a paradox? Only God
may speak of God.
Yet from the sound
of crying in the night,
there may arise perceptions new,
quite alien...or not.
But not you--not I...
and...not God.
~