Ontology (For Anselm of Canterbury, d. 21 April 1109)
If our minds,
Flawed and finite as they are,
Can find thought-bulbs and clues of You
Who must, we know, be greater than
The total sum of all our best,
Our dimmest thoughts,
Our smallest glimpse
Of You must shine,
Faintly, weakly, unto You
In all Your fullness, all
Your being, all that our minds
Can only skim in shallow pools,
If our heads can weakly find
The thought, the chance,
That You might Be,
Then all our hearts can softly say
That You must Be who can exist
Within the minds of ones like me.
The Consolations of Writing 