fallen to your grace

This poem came to me mere moments ago, hanging word by word as drops of sweat or blood or tears in a moment of truth.

fallen to your grace

I am fallen to your grace and I know
that I am here for you, such is the will
of whatever true light illumes to show
the path that I have sought, once set to fill
with the wasted moments of the false stones.
Idols of an idle impulse, graven,
for the lover walks soft amidst the bones
of the countless jackdaws that mock heaven
with the pale platitudes and attitudes
that form a stale semblance of the divine,
but of palates poisoned as Bacchus broods
over the counterfeit of the true wine.
I am fallen to your will and true grace,
if but allowed to seek, in you, my place.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.