Glorious to none

As we go, we fall, 'til we rise.
Too many things to focus on;
too few things to work with,
and those who will never help.

We go down, until we go up;
when all shall then know, where
the River+ passes without notice.
I see its rush, glorious to none.

I hope I see you there, not here.
Without you, it's not the same.
Find Him, when you're alone.
In clamor, He is not to be found.

Quiet places abound; go within.
Only there, true stillness, silence,
and that which does not end,
boundless, has neither beginning.

   --for Don