Adrift

On the cusp of the already
and the not as yet,
I am carried on gossamer silken
threads.

High into the thermals, seeds
made for being carried on winds
rise in circular navigation
and I go with it.

I feel gravitation as a memory
and thought as a possible stance,
but Spirit knows what is best
and so I acquiesce.

It has been a tremor
of fluctuating postulations
without getting to grips
with any formula.

A mystery must remain so
until, leaps across time
make conjunctions with reason.

Perhaps a year will take me
to the root of the great oak;
for now I am carried, hushed
across treetops.

For now I am touching base
with the uppermost leaves
at the soles of my feet
and drifting higher.

Then higher again.

Jenneth Graser

Tapestry

You feed me threads of colour woven
through the tapestry you have chosen

for my life, there have been choices proffered
and I may freely act on what's been offered.

What will happen if I feed the colour back
in the complete wrong direction, off track?

Scientifically deserted, mathematically absurd
to turn away from equations and the written word.

But I feel loved behind the tapestry, unseen
hands keep feeding colours, it certainly must mean

that there is not so much a right or wrong.
Rather I discover you send me what belongs

for moments such as these, when it comes to me
that my life is not determined by another history.

I must weave the colours given in the way that pleases
and find out for myself who you are to me, Jesus.

Jenneth Graser