GRACE

This one occasion I seek the solace of words
None appear.
My Muse plays a game with me, goes dumb,
It does not answer to a command
But rises like the stars at night, wheeling over the eastern edge unseen
According to its own scheme and scale
Unbidden by me.

I am standing on the brow of a flower filled meadow.
It is time to go, to move, let closure be as gracious as conception.
How the mists rise, when Ahura tracks over the hill
Softly steaming into other worlds, letting go, dissipated.