Day 12, NaPoWriMo

Catching a glimpse of perfection flying
seeing there in the child everything good.
The mundane seems lighter knowing the good,
looking for average, finding sacred.
That’s the halo, that it glints on a slant
and then disappears again, leaving just a hope –
faith with the knowledge that it was. It was
and it can be again. Or it is always,
invisible, catching you unawares
with the glowing of beyond our knowing.
Demanding more, we force the light to flee
this lie, this notion of great to greater.
A child in ordinary play looks up
to smile at you with her cherubic lips.


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