Toward Unspeakable Light

By Cynthia Scodova


I stretch out my arms to you,
  I stretch out my soul, like a land without water.

                                                                Psalm 142

The moon

 is  

teetering

in the tangling hierarchies of branches.

Orb of dread

and dream:

bright of bird songs

and right angling light

from the day.

Our hearts’ 

full 

undisclosed desires

 beneath

the vast unconquerable

realms of infinity

and love,

where we

begin again

to recognize

somewhere within

the beautiful 

softly spoken 

voice

of God

praying 

us toward

unspeakable light.

Cynthia blogs at The Mad-Eyed Monk.