The moon fades
and I close my eyes
and try to picture my god in my mind
but all I can see is my love’s face
shining
guiding me through the hallways of the night
during the day I am alone.
Wild horses roam the hills
mountains perk up over the horizon
the snow melts from the peaks
rivers rise and swell into the valleys
trees grow and wild flowers spread open
this spirit
it guides us into the valley of our heads.
The moon fades
and I close my eyes
and try to picture my god in my mind
but all I can see is my love’s face
shining
guiding me through the hallways of the night
during the day I am alone.
Ritual
ritual is when you go into a golden pantry
to buy a coke
and you hand the cashier a dollar
and she gives you back your change
you say ‘thank you’
this is ritual
it is but the husk of the spirit.
It is but patterns
the crossing of eyes.
The moon fades
and I close my eyes
and try to picture my god in my mind
but all I can see is my love’s face
shining
guiding me through the hallways of the night
during the day I am alone.
Smyon-Pa 