The practice of his presence
A scent of divinity
A whispher from this burdening silence
Arms stretched out in a transfigured vicinity

A drop of life on a withered tongue
A raindrop from heaven's floor
The knowledge of the existence of a God
That is, will be and was

The flame of anointing on the rusted door
The thought; what is what's not
His romance, the songs of Solomon
His love, his pleasure, his touch

A muted train of wandering thoughts
Wonders! The wooden cross bleeds
Wide-eyed blisters on bent knees
The flesh's toast to a reversed fall

The beginning of an unending infinity
The pillar of men cast in his fear
The feast tables by dwarfed angels
The memory of an archaic line
Coming alive through the spittle of fire

Glasses clinking at the dawn of harvest
A victory in each battle cry
In the Majesty of the Trinity's presence
Here I lie

Image credits: Standing on the solid rock via

Copyright (c) 2015, Opetu Ebibote
for MuseSpill | | |

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