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As steam rises

as the seam rises from my mug
i breathe and sip
what this world is so afraid of...
a quiet moment before
a universe-size God, who spoke
with Moses, walked with Adam
and whispers still to men
who listen
with hearts
content and broken
to be able in a quiet 
morning to speak 
words unsaid over coffee
with the One who wrote down
their days and speaks still in
not-so-insignificant ways, weighing
and marking my soul like gold and dross,
i guess these are the moments where i count it
all, every single shard of shattered glass, as loss...


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