Everything’s a Triumph of the Holy

Science tells us why grass is green,
why sky is blue, why it rains when it does
and how a heart beats. And I’ve read books

on what temperature
the inside of the bread should be
when it leaves the oven (200 degrees).

I have read about the genome,
nitrogen fixers, post partum depression,
and the intricacies of this galaxy.

So much to learn, to study, to know.
And still. Within everything holes.
An underlying tune we can almost hear,

but not quite. So much room
for deepest secrets.
If the universe is expanding,

what is it expanding into? And where
were we before we were born? And how is it
I look for you everywhere and find

you everywhere, in the shining life all around?
Is time travel possible? And what happened
to us that made us fall in love? In everything

there’s a large chunk of mystery—and what
can we say but hallelujah? And so,
I don’t know how, but with praise on my lips

I carry you with me wherever I go—
your breath in my breath, your palm
in my palm, your heart in my heart, your

why in my why, your words carved into my
blue (short wave lengths,
Rayleigh scattering) sky.

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