I can say it now, tell the truth of how
a gust can turn a leaf, a life, a phrase –
we cannot claim these things that move
us, any more than we can own the moon
despite our investment since children
searching its fullness for a face in the dark.
Some gods are dependable, arrive on time –
thick oaks and granite rooted in this earth.
But most are illusive and walk the edge
of our senses, talk logic without words
we think we understand. It is enough
to be among them, watching, listening
to what can’t be captured, what won’t fit
in a colored box to be labeled and sold
like puffed wheat, like politics and religion.