Saturday’s Worship: the Chair

I choose to resist her because I cannot change her.

No stormy epiphany.

Just a maze of textures…unrelenting.

Provoking my soul.

Mother’s visceral encampment absorbs all that is bold.

And, so, she and I go.imageedit_8_2203620117

I resist her akin to my worshiping her.

Awaiting another tale to unfold.

 

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I wandered into the woods today.  To see if I could get a better picture of the ‘chair’.  Though I had many photographs of the chair…none satisfied me.  Walking out of the woods I discovered no…better picture of the chair.  Yet, my spirit felt much improved.

All the While

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No significance to where it came from.

Love, did not grow beneath my nails.

Charm not from the dust kicked up behind my wheels.

Angst,

neither, the heel.

Nor, from how the heart heals.

I had been let in by way of luck.

Faith, came down only by the shower of your smile.

And,

it is at your welcome,

I wait all the while.

 

 

Worship Like a Dog

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There is a semi precious pebble to a naturally gated community.

Do not know its purpose…

But it makes me unequivocally happy.

It is as safe as,

spring flowers in the yard.

the worship of a dog.

I am uncertain if…

I have given you the treasures deserved.

But your needs have forever been first.

Thus, life being content and good.

Like a lone stone in the woods.

Little moments…

cornstalks in the snow.

Gentle comforts from above and below.

 

Sunday Drives

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If I had dared to share words…mile after mile…I may have missed a trinket or two..

such as, fair, care…

Most notably…faithful…beware.

The tires have grown weary.

The surface of things…brittle and callous from the salty tides.

Queries… once again…to the growing bucket of  worshiper…beware.

These Sunday morning drives.

Heading down to church.

Not something that was planned just an ache…

An itch for you to scratch.

And, from the beginning…the agreement…our spirituality does not match.

As a matter of course, our faith source had succumb to a greater course.

It has been my pleasure to share in your god.

Our Sunday drives no longer a destination of fruitful vine fields that wane.

In the passenger seat…just after daylight has begun…

infinitely…finding your god and mine…one in the same.

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