I Are One

I and my Father are One: one broken branch one budding bough. one love splintered by a stained-glass eye. One root plants me, unclasping in a clasping earth. Candle and blind bible, carriage, and horse, both ditch and ladder my unburdened labor. Two faces I have. one turns to a spiral center where beads count prayers, the other is as still as stone within a molten mountain. This shadow in a looking glass knows my Father's secret, it is a flame here in my thicket and maze. With His mouth he Words me, His ears echo me, with these crushed words He builds my temple, empties and fills my vessel.