Among the Ways We Pace In

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

Whatever can a soul rely on, soul

With body, blood and blond(e)-haired skin, blue eyes

And beauty’s spirit?  Entities not whole

(We’re told) rely on Christ and God, their cries

Of “Holy, Holy, Holy!” filling space and time

From heaven’s see-through golden streets, but those

Of us complete (whose souls and bodies rhyme

As one together) cannot quite expose

The utter truths beyond our insights.  We

Are hindered in our revelations.  Mind,

And soul and body cannot crystal see

The whole of truth since we are fleshly blind.

  We do not know which way to turn our hearts

    Not even when we read carved holy charts.