Glory be to God for empty things
For trumpet-sounding turban shells on tidal shale
For church-vault cello echoes, chill and dim
Bells’ bellies swelling to the rock of rings
Heartspace, hollow as wooden ships under sail
Cliffs cleft by lightning, split to a ragged rim.
All things resonant, spacious, deep or shallow holes
Whatever is hollow, receptive, transparent-pale
Spilling nothingness over every acceptant brim
He fathers forth, we echoing empty souls
Praise Him.
After Hopkins
Collection available! Knocking from Inside
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Transparent Beauty
Labels:
nonce rhyme,
poetry
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2 comments:
Absolutely delightful! Another poem where every line is a treasure.
the
clear, hollow
beauty of empty
things
i adore this prayer you wrote.
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