x1

Abandoned child,
I had no choice in my salvation,
Where I was taken. 
But I didn’t find it there.
There was None Beyond the washing of feet,
Tho loudly proclaimed in rituals. A
Grotesque scene.
It was a grieving heart
That took me upon wayward paths,
Where I found 
Tabernacles in the swaying trees,
The green writhing river;
Children and innocence 
At play
Upon the breeze;
Kernels of truth
In the quietest of sermons
Spoken by the moon.
Advertisements