“There cometh one mightier than I after me,
the latchet of whose shoes I am not worthy
to stoop down and unloose.” Mark 1:7
Our ordered world’s a light and drafted slate
(Though empty cold envelops even hope):
The leaping photon’s joy at birth connotes
The curling scum about the sewer grate.
The heave of lungs afflicting ailing fate
Inaugurates the apt convulse of stroke,
As scudding comets’ skyborne burns evoke
The gentle pull of lovers to their mate.
But simple as the apple, seeking earth
Beneath the fall, the memory matured
Will find its fertile source at exile’s stall-
Ubiquity of Law’s the sturdy girth
That binds the bucking foal of matter, moored
To bear a searing brand: “The King and Judge…of all.”
