A world within a world I love,
So paradoxically vast and small,
Wraps tightly round the drifting globe,
Binds up the finest filaments in flight.

It is between so many and
yet comes to me alone,
It is so esoteric and
yet has a childish charm.

Spectating sports - the kind that fascinate,
That hold onto attention firmer than their summing parts,
For they are more a dance than game,
A furied striving after tempered mastery,
A chase to heights and speeds that flirt upon the edge of human might.

Come crashing down dear hope of mine,
Not wishful in the slightest sense,
But gifted by the Faithful One,
Of things unfinished,
Things not seen,
Things to dance about and praise,

Goodness past assures the soul,
And goodness now for my rejoicing,
Yet goodness near is shelter from despair,
Umbrella to the stormy day,
Shield to raging flames and darts,
Life to dying oaks and brush,

Come crashing down dear hope of mine,
Not wishful in the slightest sense,
But gifted by the Faithful One,
Of things unfinished,
Things not seen,
Things to dance about and praise.