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Poem 13

there is God
somewhere within the night
the cricket chirping paint
and messy black of emotion,
when i think I know the depth
of purple and fathoms below

when i think i err, it is being
Lord, and it is breath, instantaneous
now, and nothing more. When i think I
am far and when I am; terrifying,
how intensely comforting,
to be near the warmth of fire.
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