When the grace of earth
and air surround me,
I am a piece of world
that is but puzzle with
all my irregular edges
and fears. Where are
the missing shapes
that belong beside me?
Where is the hole
I was built to fill?
Some displaced things
were meant to be stranded,
wounded, unfashioned.
Consider the soul whose
vacant form is nothing
but prayer, whose unseen
presence fills the "nowhere"
with all it has to give.
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