In Suspense

In suspense:
Tethered taut
as a present possibility
between past and future,
between puppet and angel.
Gathered into the torn tension of momentum and calling.
Mortal in eternity
our cracked fragility
endures the stress, straining.

What longing-calling
voice of eternity
could dare us,
and bring us to dare,
the cross?
Your whole notes
disclose our infirmity:
restless, unfinished, incomplete,
despair tears us
from our security.

O Lord,
with what poised patient passion we must proceed across -
balancing an unscored ballet,
an improvised dance -
with a terrible glance to the precipice,
still we venture forth.

Over the crevasse quivering,
the dangling bridge;
the crying chords arch across, trembling,
the slatted planks, in the wind swaying:
And far below, far, far below,in the darkness gnashing,
the froth rushing.