I used to visit sacred shrines (Poem)

I used to visit sacred shrines
lighting up candles, chanting verses.
I used to see how God converses
with Light, and sometimes with the Mind.
And I would shut my tired eyelids
and begin chanting ancient psalms;
I’d find Him living within Silence
and the soft coolness of clean palms.
And saintly nuns in Russian kerchiefs
would take my alms from tired hands;
and I’d walk off into the land
resting at times amid young birches.
And I would pass new shrines and chapels,
built by the monks and the ascetics;
they worshipped an ideal aesthetic,
feeding off only rain and apples.
They searched for God in stormy clouds,
and tireless prayer and being kind,
God only knows if they did find
the bliss they sought within those sounds.
But prayers they traveled o so high,
beyond the mountainous far regions,
they tore themselves off from religion
and wings that clobbered towards the skies,
and they did find, a holy light,
beyond the god of mans creation,
not born from sin or great salvation,
but balanced between day and night.


~ by alexmalina on February 9, 2009.

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