Such wonder brims as cannot be fleeting issuance from me. Mine the stilly yield to it: emptied hands heart made fit Even breath withheld for what (instant or aeon?) holds as caught.

Until - ah loosened grasp on grace - time re-assumes its treadmill course. A path, familiar, lies ahead: a house awaits, a supper's spread. Voices will speak: in an unstrange tongue sharing with ease what's daily done. Pleasantries - laughter - All's as before with the same bread broken, the safe-latched door.

Or - is it? Is it! Can anything quite be again as it was? Once split by light.

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.