A Space I Cannot See
My eyes yearn for a space I cannot see.
A space shrouded not by darkness,
But by brightness beyond the colors I can comprehend.
A space radiating truth so vivid
I must avert my eyes to more comfortable vistas
Before my vision version visitation of reality
Is scorched to ashes and dust.
Reality so solid it rips through my retinas
And I must enter blind into this space
Where there is no distortion.
I yearn for a space I recognize only by the shape
of the seeking that encompasses it.
A space obscured in the gloaming of grief,
The fatigue of hopes abandoned,
The perpetual weary lament of burdened love.
A space beckoning faintly past the corners of age
Into the stillness of final breath.
Mind persistently puzzling out conundrums
That can finally be resolved only from within that veiled space.
Heart stuttering out a hymn
To echo through the silent secret sacred space
Where irrevocable expectant joy awaits.
My futile eyes peering through a veil darkly,
Catching inexplicable glimpses
Of a glory that will ultimately shatter me,
Into a new creation.
Terri Martin Wilkins is a follower of Jesus Christ, often failing but always relying on grace. She writes to express her experience, pain and trust, and responses to the world around her. She often struggles but continues to work on trusting God in all things.
Photo by Bran Sodre on Pexels.com.