High atop a canyon, a breathtaking, unnamable vision.
God lives,
It’s spoor here for all to see.
Always I seem one step behind it, beside it, now just within reach.
Seeking, pursuing, struggling, straining, grasping.
Catching a glimpse of its handiwork,
Yet never of the Master Craftsman itself.
Is this truly how the trek will be? How it must be?
Or am I just one mirror away?
-M. Adam Sheck