Between the world and how we represent The nameless by a name and even place, There is a space or void in our intent. What mother saw, what father really meant How love and hate might intertwine in space? In our own world, what can we represent? In writing, there is lack and letters bent For ancient writing often scholars traced There is a space or void in our intent. Today the sun is golden, gods descend. With love, for moments, we are all embraced Of the felt, what can we represent? Our willingness unblinds the heart so rent And then we see the face within his face The space or void is in our interest. I cross my eyes with fingers interlaced: The crucifix, the love, the death of Christ Between the world and what we may attempt There is a space or void where he was sent.