The vanishing point’s not something we can snare,
For as we move towards it, it’s nowhere.
The two sides of a road will never meet
Despite you run with your eternal feet.
Yet we seem to see it as we stare,
Its existence is remote yet clear.
In the geometry of dimension three,
Infinitely dear, this point ‘s not me
And so I ask myself if God compares.
We need his “presence” whether he is ” here.”
Without that “point of view.” we have no “selves”
To see the holy earth in all its wealth.
Fast retreating from the ones who chase
In the mystic stillness, he is grace
A
How my heart sings 