Friday 23 March 2007

Smoke Rings

Smoke rings

In haste
smells and sounds are punctuation
to the sermon.
Drifting lights, like
smoke, smudge the
in haste.

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,
for You
have kissed me from my drugged sleep
And in faith
for You,
I leap.


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