I’ve built a castle in the air,
rooted precariously in the clouds.
I move through it daily inspecting
inconsistencies, shifts in solidarity
and alignment – yet also marveling each step
at its impracticable beauty and intricate improbability.
It began with a frail hope, then a desperate faith.
Now a feckless audacity keeps me
roaming its uncharted wings,
knowing what an absurd indulgence
my efforts are considered
by almost everyone stuck in the mire below.
Riding the clouds, built upon the wind,
having perhaps not a whit of substance
but, o I have found nothing
on terra firma to outweigh its promise,
its solace and my holy obsession
with its lofty, ethereal beauty.
O child of God, to reside within the mystery,
rise above everything on earth taken to be true.
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