An Atheist & a Mystic

She longs forever, and wails affliction; and deep the vault, an
Atheist. I speak of pain and faith: she laughs—my vision.
Life is love, she says; and joy is to be captured. I’m
Somewhat slanted: love is pain, and pain is joy; for Wisdom
Breathes; and knowledge cries. She stomps a foot; and speaks
Of death: What the crusades, a godly art; and what the grief,
To drown a witch. I stir the winds, and speak the heart: a
Feeling warm, a rhythmic beat; and yet and still, she conjures
Pain: “If truth is God, I must abstain.” But what the Spirit, a
Brimming light; and what the Christ, a burning torch. She
Speaks of Buddha, the first to come; and mourns the pain, a
Feeling numb. What if both, shared a flame; and what if both—
A mystic grain? Her eyes tear, the deepest fruit; and firestorms
A cello soft. We smile and laugh and sip the sauce.