Wild Country

Fly us, Lord,
by your raw,
creamy grace,
on wingless wings.

What can we know within?
Deep energies and mildness,
basics of the blend.

There is a place
of silent ache and prophecy
where the invisible appears
rising, sun-like and epiphanous.

Yes, yes,
that's what we wanted,
always wanted,
the open altar
of flesh and word.