Praise #50, The Singularity of Three

The Singularity of Three

Horizon-splitting, day-stopping

Vine-growing, spring-bursting

Saint-leading-saint through

the night of faith,

the testing,

            the infirmities of our spirits


            the gates by the western shore


the ancient bards

couldn’t say it,

their invocations lacked

the final point of faith,

the doctors of the unknowable law

couldn’t seize it

their hands could not

come clean


the buzzing had grown

to a torrid roar

the days had grown

forgettably slow

the phantoms of industry

threw in the towel

their devotion


plonking onto a molten night


but the Savior gave love,

the solemn rite

a soft seed given

to a buckling plain


and who shall learn

the Way,

that turneth not

towards the night

a road we can’t continue on

until we tumble forth


About Pete Mladineo

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