smells and sounds are punctuation
to the sermon.
Drifting lights, like
smoke, smudge the
And You stand,
Your hand upon my shoulder.
I inhale your scent and almost weep
for fresh spring mornings and the taste of autumn-
You have taken me from the bustle,
You have restored that most bittersweet of senses-
You have stirred in me the embers of lost hope
And in remembrance I burn incense,
have kissed me from my drugged sleep
And in faith
Friday 23 March 2007