The First Place
Radiant colors swirl ahead and behind crystal-like boardwalks
That reflect nothing around rainbows and emerald seas.
Mild flashings under deep rumblings from between
Chambered rounds of faith lumbering in thunderous voices
Too loud to be heard.
The more I think I know the face of the One who made me
The more I know I think wrong things about most of what makes me
Think more of the things that wrongly made me
Think of them in the first place.