On the beach at night, search the blackness of
ocean and sky after the sun sinks in a royal blaze
Feel the origin of the secrets stirring ceaselessly in the sonars
of the deep, secrets swelling through the cosmos,
As his passion fleshed from dust and charged
with his breath into the image of his being
Our measure is but a particle in infinity, and our
life but a poem written in dew,
Yet we too are hallowed soundings of his poetry
and song breaking forth from jars of clay.