We do not know what we ask
when tears go up
for open heavens,

when the rain
we pray for
makes buried phantoms
of us all.

Better the dew
that rises
from the earth:

Epicenter
from the heart
of the matter.

Word made flesh.

Elemental
consecration.

Reconstituting
shockwave.

Indiscriminate
vivification.

I am become Life.
Maker of all things new.