peace comes in and unfolds its wing like a little bird, waiting in trust that not a feather will fall without purpose, e’ry quill a lil’ design, filled with scattered incoherent light, appearing when our eyes glance sideways to catch the inbetween, a veil they say that separates but in reality it’s all made from the same holy Material, threads designed in light woven through fabric of eyes, unveils what we cannot say, and speaks what we cannot think: oh those things I always wanted to be to You, i couldn’t, though You made me, i could never find the words, (hidden here in verse), a quiet verb, a pretense spoken like whispered expressions, and given away only when one’s wholly given in, and i confess this is meaninglessness, it all seems a sham, and it’s all You want from me, the me undone, my thoughts saying, "i am not the I am i sought to be, i’m all You mean for me to be (finished) into nothing before You, only the incoherence i am and thank you for an open path" to bring my incoherence like a lamb to the light (by which i see), the light is a fount of that light You are (meant to be) in me, the light You are i cannot stand, a mirror fire, a waste basket, in oil, enraged, in flight, an ascending cloud, thrilled, my effervescence, my loom, my wound, in me, like a bird (for now) and i bow in this scattering, for the miracle of being found out, for the miracle within a miracle in me, and i can’t stand being seen so real so like me and so unlike myself, i rend the heavens with this friendship, i agree, and i see Jesus, i agree and it’s just a moment’s notice, a wink, a descent, a breathe that unlocks a kiss, “finished,” this?