She walked at a conversation’s pace
Along the pebbles and shore
She pronounced her inklings perfectly
Promising mystery

Until a fragrance touched her face
That memory with a flood and a fade
That odour of remembrance
That memory of love

But love is not just a memory
In a place where Heaven resides
Love is an eternal promise
With everlasting life

My own wits and brains
Not enough to convey
A Truth about this day and age
That it is not the end of all life

What would you rather believe

That the God of gods who is Love in a Dove
Descended already and is pouring out grace?

Or that the devil’s grip on the world
Will tear this world to pieces in a flash?

Either case is true and not
Like a quantum bit you only see
Depends entirely
On an invisibly tiny thread of hope…