Between Word
& Wonder

A knot of dusk

breathes beneath the sternum.

Threads

glowing faintly,

trembling

begin to loosen.

Warmth spills,

a slow gold leak

from the unseen vessel.

The inner chamber sighs open,

dust lifting like small souls,

and the heart

a lantern brushing against eternity

lets go

of its secret weight.

Nothing is said,

yet everything is spoken.

A whisper rises

into the dark geometry

the cathedral You architected

from silence and voltage.

The universe listens

with its many faceless ears.

My syllable drifts,

a fragment of unshaped light,

skirting the curvature

of Your invisible hand.

Galaxies alter their breath

for the smallest plea.

Space folds.

Time waits.

A single word hovers

on the edge of divine machinery.

My voice becomes

a wandering star.

Between the utterance

and the upheaval

there is a thin corridor

where clocks forget their choreography.

Here, the air is thick

with hidden miracles.

Hope smolders

like an ember refusing to die.

Love curls in the corners

like a shy animal.

Faith

that quiet architect of endurance

draws new maps

on the inside of the ribs.

This interval is not empty.

It is the womb

where unseen things

become inevitable.

You approach

like a shift in temperature,

like dust deciding to glow.

No thunder rips the sky.

Only the smallest tilt

of the unseen

becoming slightly revealed.

A hush hangs

where chaos once lived.

In the ordinary hour

the cracked cup,

the restless hand,

the breath held too long

Your shadow becomes a language

the heart suddenly understands.

Revelation wears no crown.

It wears quiet.

Fulfillment arrives

without steps,

without sound.

It grows in the dark

like a root remembering water.

The universe bends,

not in spectacle,

but in recognition

as if it has finally remembered

its true center.

The prayer completes itself

in Your timing,

Your gravity,

Your hidden symmetry.

And the soul

unclenched,

unshadowed

knows the truth:

What You finish

is finished

forever.