ILLUSIONS
A star,
a moon,
an orchard in bloom;
a bird,
a song,
a symphony
of Shostakovich,
who said:
“The illusions
that sustain us
crumble slowly.”
A word is a thing in itself
but not the thing it stands for.
I’ve seen the moon
and evening star,
connection is clear,
but tenuous
the abstract bridge
of truth and beauty.
And when it comes to God,
the word, that is,
finite stretches
toward infinity
but endless
is the span.
Words are our world
but can so easily lead us astray.
August 2010
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