"We're wandering around as strangers looking for things to recognize, and whenever you see something which you know is good, true, and beautiful, that's an act of recognition." -Hugh Nibley

we get a feel of it

rubbing off on our fingers

from a worn page.

that line...something about it

pricks our bellies

like a vague craving--

sweet or, somehow,

indiscernably wonderful.

we recognize

a truth we had forgotten

we were looking for.

wandering here

we are as strangers

because we have forgotten

our own faces. we are

grasping at the veil,

trying to make

something of the symbols,

fumbling with faded

maps and checklists,

filling our cavernous pockets

with principles like

coins and treasured crumbs

of recognition.

until the soft tones

we've overheard in passing

move closer to our ears,

and the room

grows wide with faces

like stars

and voices like suns

burning into our beings

the final enrapturing

recognition

of the Voice that calls

our name.

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