By Daniel Janeiro - Lent/Easter 2011
Joy is a swelling full elate,
A juicing till the skin
Distends, must sunder or deflate,
So stretching to exalt,
To feel the stallions in the veins
Course on the precipice,
Heedless of hoof, unneedful of reins,
And fearing no fault.
Joy is a control, a steady pulse,
Found consistent in crescendo falls,
Crumb-emboldened, banquet-shy, a truce
Twixt softened agony and rigid bliss,
Leaning against its own resistlessness,
Passing plenty, finding plenty this:
To pass, and then to pass, and then to pass.