A Middle Term Mathematic
If God is my middle term
When I write a poem
And that's the subject there in turn
Can each one resound alone?
Is such a poem exponential?
The middle term times itself
Do we feel that is existential
And comes by poetic stealth?
Can an entity I cannot count
By itself be multiplied
Not in four dimensional amounts
That truly cannot be espied
Perhaps this is a mystic state
The mathematic of the gyre
Rising out of our cave-like place
As it eternally aspires
Such self-reflection is an infinite
The divine tracing of a fractal
In my faith I can somehow implement
When I reach beyond the actual
It makes a thing that's dizzying
Like facing mirrors endlessly reflective
An eternal vision that is now appearing
While it's real, it is not objective
Our divine connection with the middle term
Allows us mystic and loving visitations
To which in poems I make a sacred return
In my simple poet's imitations