He set out, hoping to find the Presence.
The musty brown path was crisp
and crackled with the footfall of waking dawn,
cueing shadowy living things of night
to scurry back to their leafy huts.
He tried to time it so to catch rays from the east
at that ineffable moment when the Kingdom comes down
and fills anew the morning soul of the earth.
To his right, the river of drifting sun shards
spilled from the side of the craggy hill. To his left,
a moonlit canopy of hardwoods held back a waning night wind.
And there he stood between, light and dark, sun and moon,
alone and surrounded, many and one, weeping and singing.
Alive and living on.