This

Like the songbird sentenced to his silence
Though all along his song was just for one,
Little life, you have a way of breaking us
Even though your time may not be done.
Through the burning, through the wanting — we’re hoping still
The bending and breaking, the moaning — believing still
Through the crying, the dying — we’re standing, still
The aging, our gracing — we’re breathing still.
Take this little moment as it is, this tiny sigh of time.
In a body that ebbs away little moments still taste of the divine.
Taste this little second as it is — though small, it holds it all;
for too soon it will pass away: single moments weave into a life.
Like the piece of light that falls between all of the
shadows that may well make up our time,
Even blinded eyes still turn to feel you —
Little life of little joys sublime.
Through the burning, through the wanting — we’re hoping still
The bending and breaking, the moaning — believing still
Through the crying, the dying — we’re standing, still
The aging, our gracing — we’re breathing still.