Where were you
When I was in the stony place?
You were the ache, the incompletion,
The undoing when all had been brought together.
You have never seen the structure
And those gathered within, to you, are holes;
When they walk they are less than shadows,
What they teach you will not learn:
The exquisite tension of denial,
The unexplored depths of surrender.
You will not see them,
You will not go in
Even as stone turns flesh, a heart,
Its vivid pulse my pulse
And the words not rote,
Not dust like books but beautiful,
And its loss would make the centuries weep
At the severed line of history
The war with precedent.
Be building, not breaking.
Go to it now with me.