The Time Between Times

The thick, black bowl of heaven presses down,

To hold, preserve, suspend the earth below

The shuttered, secret faces; field and town

Hide mystery, expectancy and hope.

The arms of lovers, captured, intertwined,

The sundered, barren heart strains, aches to hear

The soul who sits and seeks to never find

Find, in the black, eternity draw near.

And unaware each soundless voice they raise

In answer to the enigmatic night,

In curses, desperate penitence or praise,

In consecrated fear of just and right.

Then all the world, dissatisfied, sin-shod,

Holds its breath, eyes wide, and waits for God.