The Fine and the Coarse

Rub your finger over life

And feel the texture and the grit of it.

Life can lift no finger, but it senses

That which touches it as smooth and fine.

Both long for, yet fear, union,

Shrink back at the touch

Unless some conjury of music, word, or will,

Or natures course, shall make them stay

And consummate their procreative ecstasy

In which both perish

To become that precious thing

Toward which Creation sacrificed its holy emptiness

By Richard Hodges

Thursday Mar 13 2014, 4 AM