It will remain to me a miraculous angle
like the magic of rain that falls from nothing,
arriving precisely when it means to
always with the same purpose.
It blends the unblendable,
heals the unhealable,
taking what's far and drawing it near,
comforting the swollen sorrow of the unloved.
It's a travelin kinda thing
a sometimes indecipherable kinda thing
moving down a beatific road.
It deals a great reckoning and commits unusual resolve
to the satisfaction of itself.
Invisible to delight,
impervious to insight,
It is its own standard
the greatest unsolvable mystery ever to be believed.