Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
The purity escapes, is hard to grasp
Unless you do it with your handless soul.
The purity escapes. No latch or hasp
Can hold it since you know the unseen whole
Is waiting for your mystic heart to seek
It with your greedless fingers which belong
To metaphysics. God is far too sleek
Because his love is like a soundless song
That plays forever just beyond your ears.
He does not seem to have dimensions, front
And back, escapes our paradoxes, fears
And spirits, crying everywhere we hunt.
Since utter, God is ever, never tame.
He moves like washed-ink breezes in a frame.
