for my boss, mentor, minister, and friend, Rev. Aija Simpson
w&m © 2021 David M. Glasgow (ASCAP)

You’re taller than I thought you were,
but what do I know?  What do I know?
My cautious eyes reflect in you.
This matters, what we hope to do.
But will it be so?  How can we know?
We’ll test. We’ll try. We’re bound to fall.
We’re only human, after all,
but holiness is found where humans grow.
That’s one thing we know.
That’s one thing we know.

I start a text; there’s one from you.
We both know we have work to do
we can’t do alone.  There’s too much unknown.
Our best-laid plans just have to go
when Spirit moves or tensions grow,
but we take it in stride.  We have us on our side.
And on our own, behind the curtain,
we share our questions, only certain
together we’ll go where we need to go.
Yeah, that much we know.
Thank God, that much we know.

‘Cause at the center of this place we’ve made,
this Sanctuary for uncertain souls,
you have planted an accidental creed.

Our worship here is at an end.
We take a hand.  We smile at friends.
We’re ready to go.  It’s time now to go.
The paradox is somehow true:
you’ll be with me, and I with you,
no matter where our mortal bodies go.
And that’s the truth that saves my soul—
alone, a part; together, whole.
I won’t forget we need each other more,
more than we know,
more than we know.