It is You Beloved, my beloved, who I have believed when You
brazenly declared that from birth our futures are not set in stone,
that our futures are there for us to choose.
Yet this I know that this present world lingers
on and on pressing ever toward a path of slow decay
and yet still You love and ever love and call us home.
So how so do we go in so self-lit a world?
Does our love ever glow in You? Is this so? Is it so that we go?
It was You Beloved, my Beloved, who said our world of
human memory is mortal, that mankind can live in You and ever live.
Many are the moments when You declared that
Our futures are not set in stone, that leaving life to the whim of the fates ever fails,
that You, beloved, are the only Way, Truth, and Life.
To the end we are arriving—or has it already arrived?
It is the memory of You Beloved, my Beloved,
who I have beloved, who has the final goodbye beyond the shingles of
any question of heaven, any brazen declaration that
when we speak to the Beloved we do not speak
to that made of meaningless and mad stone.
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