The Pilgrimage, Book II: Part 8 / Phillip Neal Tippin
Closeness of routine and a nestled rest—
A daily commune with the vast expanse.
Expending of days for expansive rest,
The way to make the expanse a waste
Go back to the bellows
The fire and its forge
To shadow in sparks
The expanse of the stars
Poets have the clearest words
For the lotted, paired mind.
Just keep from cutting out
Or maybe only half and mourn that—
A pattern I’ve got down pat.
Lord, uphold my own faith.