The loaf is split, 

The wine, poured;


Time and eternity will intersect

In ways you least suspect,

In rare moments when veils part

And for a quivering instant, you will know

You have glimpsed something that is real,

Some transcendent life;

And yet as you reach to touch it—

As you will reach to touch me—

It will resolve again into Itself,

And only this will be left:

Memory, and wonder,

And the hard questions—