The Memory of Saints

Silver Island after sundown on the Bonneville Salt Flats, Utah/ Photo by the author

Thunder of prayers
Hallowed spaces, they rise
Like incense in my heart's
Recollections
To stumble in the dark garden
Pricked by leaves,
Falling, falling, falling

Fastly comes the night's veil
A bride that lights
Passions with a single blue flame
Calling, calling, calling
Pounding that rhythm
Worshiped by the Ancients

Call back the folded hands
Of wise men
Clad in cowls,
For the earth has fallen into
Inhumane industry

Do we remember the songs of saints
Who crossed the desert
Where ships sank into the
Unforgiving sands

They survived injustice
They remained compassionate
While the rest of us lost
Our innocence

But I take up the veil of stillness,
Of the heart beating
The mind like a drum

Marry, marry, marry
The two separated souls
And you will have found
The answer

Am I alone?
Am I alone in the desert?
I was, but for a moment,
King of the fallen sky
The stars inseperable
From the ocean of midnight

I will come out from the Veil
My eyes stroking the light
That takes upon itself the
Body of a man,
The mirror alone tells of
His identity

Light a candle
Light a prayer on fire
So that its warmth challenges
Greedy twilight
Silky night, you fall, fall, fall

Sunrise, I call, call, call
I take up with folded hands
The call of the past,
And my future becomes
The memory of saints