God
When Heaven folds its violet wings,
And Silence keeps the Door —
When Faith forgets her whispered psalms,
And Hope is heard no more —
There moves — a Breath — between the Dust,
A Pulse the grave denies —
Too small for Science — yet it stirs
The Weary — when I die.
No temple holds my wandering feet,
No creed my garment hems —
I walk where human sorrow sleeps,
And sing in shattered hymns.
For when all else has turned away,
We find — in one another — God.
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