As the sun in shining looks on all living things,
so the work of the Lord is full of his glory.
Are complements complete?
Sunlight resurrects dust
upon this composed dust
awaiting its own entombment.
This dust travails: Taxed. Worn. Spent.
All by endeavored communications,
Reaching beyond itself
from lowliness to loveliness
from empty passivity to perfect participation.
Advancing where nature has been left wanting:
(just as wanting as the one who wants).
When this dust sees, it will know,
and when it knows, it will love,
and when it loves, it will live.
And live anew.
Is anything worth any thing?
Let eternity hear our resounding: Yes!
For in all things, this dust clings
to the crimson-christened Feet.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
Image: Hands, Clapping, Dust, Flour