…eternal unity of perfect love…
(From the Collect of the Day)
What He left behind we can scarce imagine,
having never known such unity or home.
At best we can only recall
the closest to belonging that we have touched:
glimpses of a womb or a bed or a heart,
footsteps meeting the sand in shared rhythm.
Only if we knew
the radiant, pulsating
glory-to-glory from first, on and on,
only then could we fathom
the depths that He fathomed,
incarnate Word,
before time, found in time,
the stable not knowing His name.
The Consolations of Writing 