The Litany of the Unfinished

Lore

O Gap, we praise the rafters that bear no weight. We welcome the rain that salts the floor; we invite the starlight to map our sleeping faces. To be sheltered is to be hidden. To be open is to be known. We dwell in the aperture, for the sky is the only roof that does not leak the spirit. We honor the breath held in the throat. We sanctify the distance between two palms that never met. The bloom is a death; the bud is a promise. Keep us in the shivering moment of the almost, where the hunger is a holy thing and the heart remains an unmapped territory. We reject the closure of the kiss, preferring the electricity of the approach. We preserve the syllable that stayed behind. We cherish the truth that remains a fragment. A secret told in full is a ghost; a secret half-kept is a living flame. Let the sentence break. Let the silence hold the weight of the unsaid, for in the gap between the words, the deity breathes.