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While the mirroring Angel, who stoops to conquer,
Still withholds the quickening words and the overshadowing glory
While he waits for the moment
When his presence can be known.
In this patient expectation, who can fail to see
How eternity longs to bring its shining
To the confines of the cloistered human soul,
To unfurl its words like a golden streamer
Between angelic lips and mortal ear.
Salve! Salve Maria!
I greet you, at the top of the stairs,
Year after year,
Both of us still seeking,
No closer to truth than the year before.
But I know, dear friends, that if even this Mary
Someday her angel will come to see,
Then surely there's still time
Even now for you, even now for me.
Sam Hilt Florence, October 2000
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