Reverence
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
To enter perfect love, keep silence for
Five years, or longer. Close your eyes and see
An ancient chorus wearing robes. Explore
The doom of humans in infinity
Where rhyming is imperfect but the gods
(Or God) loom always in the background, pale,
But there, implacably present. The odds
Of beating them are slimmer than the nail
In Christ’s gripped palm. The Greeks were right to build
No roof above the action and to set
It in the universe. Those playwrights willed
That cosmic backdrop. Gods and humans met.
..How else could there be perfect love but where
…. A temple curtain waits for hate to tear?