Thursday, the Third Week of Lent
Morning comes and then winter
noon follows summer
sun hanging high overhead
shadows point North to a sky
lights dancing magically across the wondrous
dark strange expanses of a child’s memory
to peer sometimes above the pews
see sunlight knife through swirling incense smoke
reach high to windows
burst outside to flood the world
scented sight and sound
holy magic wind-up universe
toss away the key called growth maturity evolution
all’s well that ends
Mourning comes again
quiet worlds ring hollow in the windowless world
we stare each of us into our future
the end is the beginning
here at the edge of our existence
quiet words fail worlds fail
worlds fall away and tumble pass away
My words will never pass away.
Again morning comes
again waiting for the signs
darkened sun and shadow moons
smog settling slowly at day’s end
and men walking on and on the moon circling
like seasons changing frozen in the end-time.
But I will wait for you on the other side
I am where the eagles gather
I see someone on the mushroom clouds.
Let the reader take note.