doxology

You who are the word waiting
behind our monkey chatter
the slivers we cast up and grasp
the scraps we paste onto the great
deep space where you eternal
Are, and were, and will be.

Confetti, tesserae: our little
square minds weave little
webs. You who resolve
the pixels, zoom out, who hold
the little cells that fizz
and fade--Who sees the plan

imago Dei, we weave flat
ikons of your will, with our small wills,
we retell that great dark Word
with little scraps, that flash
and fizzle. Map data points
with neurons, bright, like glass

mirrors, sliver small. And you whole
skinless vast and frameless All
who waits behind our words
wore cells. Divided, multiplied,
housed parasites, grew skin,
grew blood, grew brain,

saw through two eyes. You walked
bone, muscle, skin; you died.
Whom we throw silver pins at,preserve and classify. Unheld
by ending, you rose, you opened
into Are. You go on being:

burgeon, bloom, divide, diverge, adapt, diffuse, direct.
You were, and are, and will be;
this little praise, pinned up
on endless word--

You, always, Are: purpose full
and thick with power.