If I am to arc upward
Spiraling toward the eternal,
As archangels do,
Wings curved to carry wind and stars alike.
Is every effort out and up?
What if the arc flows inward,
archpiece of surrender,
Answering uncertainty, and the unknown?
How then do I take form?
How shall I become if
Deformed by dark nights,
Proudly cobbled of minutiae
And mindless desire,
Yet, withstanding chaos
And elegant wretchedness.
I rise above the river-
A Self finally seen
By those who choose
To walk across my stones.
Stone by stone is
That by which
Daily deed carves a face,
Forged in Grace,
Weight, muscle, and will
Linking soul to Seer,
Building over chasms,
Across forever.
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