Let’s be God

For a moment,

Shall we?

That which invites

Composition,

That which is suspended

From a great height,

The presence

Of approximation

Heavy in the meadows,

I’m not afraid,

And yet

My shroud vanishes

In these lines,

I am so wept

Past weeping,

And what seems to hold

The world in its place

Is evidence of the

Weighted trees,

And leaves me always

Wanting.