The Holy Day
from Ancient Voyager on the Ocean, page 2
Petaluma, 2002
ISBN 1-931002-22-3
I know I should be contemplating
Analyzing meditating
Writing rhyme
Articulating
Things down in my soul.
Sanctified
Justified
Good Friday
Lord my mind is fried
What I am I realize
Right now I feel so cold.
Seduced by vain infatuation
Up in smoke
All inclination
Ashes to Ashes
In this creation
Memories take their toll.
Superstitions
Inhabitations
Shall hold no place
In true contrition
Be there grace
For all conditions
Or am I just the fool?
Sitting here
With sunlight rising
Dust to Dust
It’s not surprising
This sinner’s role
I keep reprising
How can I be whole?
Heavens’ city
God take pity
Life upon this road
So gritty
Crooked path
Not often pretty
Somehow lead me home.