Modern Reformation

Awe

Ethics and Culture
The Material Is Not Immaterial
Ethics and Culture

Cliffside, all I could ever see hidden in mist;

I diatribe the great air unaware if up or down

Holds my feet stone-sure, when rapture lifts

A veil to magnificence surpassingly profound.

And instantly, universe, glowing stars as at a grasp,

Surging past a billion galaxies free-anchored

Into constant nothing—ducking, twisting, racing, splash!

Into the deep, cave black abyss, adrift despair. Sword

Light heaves me dripping to the sun. I am one

To infinity’s face, a naturally selected complication

In the light of all creation. I am undone.

A gentle breeze carries me back to that misted canyon,

Where I first faced the ages’ Awe and saw my honor

Slanted by eternal height, width, breadth, and depth.

I glance and see an unexpected mirror; I hear a whisper:

“Of all, you, image-bearing carrier of my breath.”

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