Let’s not call this thing god.
It’s gotten overused 
It’s been a bit abused.
So let’s not call this thing god.

The magic of the light
The things that delight
A clear brilliant sky
And the open road
Listening to music
The way back home

The solemnity of death
The holy hour
Each breath a little further than the next
My hand resting gently on your tiny frame.
You are not alone.

Late at night
A fitful sleep
Awake I remember 
Flatline to heartbeat
Jarring
The serendipity of art
Finding you in a moment 
It was meant to be received 

You wrote this to find me here
In the dark without a light
What I hear I recognize
And remember to keep moving forward.