Words
Have become
Fewer
Now.

The prayers have been offered;
The sermons delivered;
The books written;
The hymns (and ditties) sung.

The poetry
– oh the fabulous, fathomless poetry –
Has been mastered and subdued;
Bent and wrought to express
A beauty inexpressible.

Few preachers can dive the depths to uncover such a fresh pearl;
Fewer poets can trap time and compress space into such a vivid homily.

Yet words cannot contain the landscapes of eternity,
Or the unspoken language of soul and Spirit.
For even this poem stands, forlorn, at the edge
Of a greater expanse of sublime orchestration.

Where symphony and melody,
Intimacy and ecstasy
Combine
In perfect harmony,
Arraying themselves in a garment
Of pure, shimmering praise.

For though
Words
Have become
Fewer
Now…

Yet the
Music
Has become
Greater
Now.

And in that Heavenly throng
Of praise unending,
(of the Lamb who too was slain),
He has no time or space for words:

He composes for Angels now.

For Allyn.
From your beloved friend (and student). March 2017