An unimaginable aptness
You promise us bliss.
God’s bliss.
That of which He is made.
Not joyful exuberance
nor ecstasy with its excruciation.
Not merriment with its amiability –
to be proffered and shared.
Bliss implies serenity, a certain passivity,
coming to a quiet, shining rest,
yet more than mere contentment,
something beyond our humanity –
a culmination, the purpose fulfilled, destination
reached;
the returning to a holy and unimaginable aptness.
O child of God, bliss might be described
as the permanent end to feeling incomplete.
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