Pneuma she dances dream-like in the covering night
moving in a memory of shameless creation
lifting old men’s eyes to a young man’s sovereign sight
her hands lay hold of end-time’s eager elation

this is where the dust is woven to lovely life
the place of endless breaths to the heart
while she in dew dappled skin ends our strife
with inks of hope, love, grace she tattoos art

upon our skin, upon our eyes, upon our soul
there is no empty, there is no crush, no hole
she makes us complete like a dying day’s cry
her kiss pressed firm upon our lips will not die

she is the feeding in dry desert
she is the rock-rolling lifter of death beneath the sod
she is the life giving light overt
she is our face, our wisdom, our eternity, she is our God

kneel…