Prayer

Cathedral vaulted ceiling for the amplification of God.

I could not hear him in my life now without

this breadth of stone sky to hold me up.

The ceiling unfolds with the grace of wings

feathers enclosing us safe in darkness.

The stone ribs hold shadows of lungs,

that breath angel dust,

a sandstone breath drifting down

catching gold in the light.

This cathedral is vast almost beyond comprehension,

but we’re both made from the same dust of creation.

As large as the sky it came, like us, from the earth.

Let us be the architecture of God.

Big enough to grant shelter, to bring peace.

To let all come in. Strong enough to love.

For though like these walls we can feel worn thin

by the passing of time, the weight of our lives.

If we take our sandstone soft

human love and metamorphosis

make it harder, denser, stronger

We become quartzite.

Crystal, unchanging, inert.

The unbreakable heart of God.

Pulse

To say I love her is not untrue.

But iits more that when I feel in her that vein blue pulse,

some counterpart pulses in me.

Like the animal that doesn’t know it has a voice

until it meets another, calls out to it, and so

finds itself in the same breath as it finds its mate.

Like the sound of her heart beat,

makes me suddenly aware of my own.

But more than that.

The sound of her heart sends an electric pulse

that runs from her body to mine,

so that the quiet starts beating

and I find within the emptiness

a throb separate from hers, that is my own.

She calls, and part of me I never knew existed answers,

and that answer hangs in the air,

like a ringing in the ears,

even when she is gone.

And I’m in love with the sound of my voice,

as it echoes through the room.