What absolute power
watches with interest,

measuring sins
like you would measure coffee,
one tablespoon at a time,
each grimace on your face
a mirror of lust in your heart.
Oranges, bananas and grapes
in a basket,  silk and taffeta,
rumpled in folds,
particles in the ocean,
dophins splashing green,
images that some will understand,
others blink in puzzlement.
Who comprehends truth?
Sunshine pours blood
over your soul like falling rain,
and some of you believe.
Late in the afternoon,
sun begins to play
behind clouds, houses,
or simply sinks below the horizon.
you think back
to those ripples,
folds, light and shadow,
a painting by Rembrandt
or Rubens
or some other artist
who knows salvation’s name.