Of Sacred Dread...

Sometimes a sacred dread instills

The will that winds through want-cast lips

Life’s ephemeral fortune spills

To vaults past outstretched fingertips

The holiness of have and hold

Is bold; how ravenous the air

That weans with weightless moment-gold

All but wonderment’s green-leafed stare

This ration of passion’s big splash

Dumbfounds the spectator of years

How soon the hour is awash

With ashes of time’s seasoned tears

The thread that weaves through skin, a path

Toward the soul winnows this stance

Twixt Imminence and Aftermath

Where whispers fall through outstretched hands

…then sometimes awe and dread instills

Us with Love’s Sacred Gravity

That draws its law from clocks until

They falter, in eternity…

Time’s Calling-and-Election Gasp

Its holy, holy have and hold

Slips, rose-and-nettle through the clasp

Of fingers slowly growing cold

© Janet Martin

...and on a personal note: our internet was intermittent at best, always.
Today a technician came out to update all the equipment and wow!!! what a difference!