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I form a chalice

From the stalactites

The caked, accumulating resins and their sediments

Residues remaining

Once the sorrows are lulled to sleep for a while

I offer a te deum in the name of everyone

Alive and Dead

For in the hive that I become

Your echoed perils and pleas resonate

Mellifluous, murmurous, murderous

Susurrous and sibilant in the shades of all my many lives

I rebuke my propinquity toward a hateful heart

As gently as I can

For my nerves have grown into yours

This flood

This dark night of the soul, swaying always

Between penumbra and chasm of countless hearts

Orchestrates the holiest of drownings

Yet nor can I chide the lacerating hand of my omnisentience 

For blessings approach us dressed ever in the deepest black 

Were I not the silent vicar

Were my nerves in flesh and spirit still my own

Were your joys and sufferings not growing into mine

Mine into yours 

I would be fed into this world again

To live another life.