Paint the sky with blessings
Broad salmon strokes
With lilac and yellow and green
In spring additions to the world
Living in the tension
Between the death that is
And the never ending resurrection
Of new celestial life.
We are waiting
Given our ineptitude
At sitting in between
On the spectrum without extreme definition.
How do we recognize love
In rooms of disambiguity
Except by the colors of the prism?