The Kiss.


The veil touches down
in the thin place
past kisses present,
a delicate sweep of air —
sheer mystery.
I walk into the fog,
formerly familiar, now
lit anew, the road
Where will it take me?
Breaking sun,
backlit branches,
stream through
my reckless heart.
I consider day and night,
their insistence on
gathering each dawn.
Death and life,
not opposing forces,
elbows latched
in harmony 
with Spirit.
They skip along,
capture my curiosity in that
profane and sacred
are connected, both
with a speck of God’s goodness
for those willing to
mine the mire.
Today, ghosts come out of hiding.
Tomorrow, those who’ve moved
to the great holy unknown are honored.
The veil is torn in two,
a glimpse of intimacy
between heaven and earth.
I bend down and pick up
a swatch of cloud,
hold it near,
a symbol of devotion,
a message of grace.