To lay in the feathers of His sleet and silver wings
No eternal death in the shadows, but spiritual repose
Within sound, melodical, white noise
Wrapped in a warmth as cool as linen sheets and satin robes.
There, safely and completely, weightlessly carried
No longer in the begetting of confusion, uncertainty - of betting on a toss of the dice,
but of a slow, methodical reasoning
The crossing of boundaries
across time and space in the relentless love of Christ.