Advent 1 - A Point Meant

concipit aethera mente

the sky in the heart

Ovid, Metamorphoses, I, 777

Oh, morning, the brown brink eastward, springs -

Because the Holy Ghost over the bent

World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

Gerard Manley Hopkins, God's Grandeur

You called me and I entered

your levitational field

You called me not

but I have come anyway

I can tell it from your gaze

you do not sense me

but you are not a stare

you are a star and I am space

I love your place

I have to say

but may

I open darling

this window to the wind

of blooming steel

This of you is very kind

I know how you must feel

in your winter deep

my untimely spring

is quite a thing

snow white is my grazing sheep

Let me expand

where was I

ah yes I am the space

and I extend

you matter to me

and I bend

I lend my majesty to you

Being high

I dwarf your why

I go

I grow

I sway

I stay

in a second coming miles of new

creating for you distance

for me a growing closeness

vanishing distress

I am in deed your page

and I am fond of what you writ

I think that I have made my point

your golden fleece my hands caress

collecting dew

I use to oint

for you I built the empty pew

let me confess

you are heavy you are weak

therefore more in in seven days

more of space in several ways

gliding to another streak

another age

I will not leave you in your pit