No vain Glory

My mind, oh my mind; how it slips into darkness at the thought of You. Creature unknown; yet there! I feel You; even I feel You. As eyes that strain through the limits of a looking glass.

My senses, oh my senses, they seem to know nothing of You; and yet, I write. And write I must; for every stroke of the pen is a Step taken. You are there. As sure as mine own existance; my Past my Future; my lord! I scratch at this parchment as if to know. You are there.

All the gods that ever were & ever will be, seem but Imagination at the thought of You.

Thou seemeth to be beyond my comprehension, and yet as sure as hot & cold are but measurements of an unseen force; You are there; you are there; my Holy Guardian Angel!