Grace

If we slow down the spark
that bright momentary light,
see the fire in a single whisp,
close our eyes and dare to wish..
If we could dream this thing
that's but a shadow of the glory.
if we could again believe
as children know within their hearts.
What bowl has covered love?
What cage has held their hope
but where hearts have slept?
What gentle brick has crushed it
but where the hand had pressed itself?
Love know not a falter
nor a falling short at all.
Not one.
But where human hands have dropped it
and where empty eyes have looked away
the spark slips through the fingers
and it does not ignite the flame.