Our Christic Baptism

May I see you—the pain—tiptoeing winds. You speak so

Seldom. My heart leaps—a fractured wall. We dance—the

Flame, an ego bond. But essence—to love—such majesty;

And presence—to touch—such mystery. I beckon, Mother,

Tend the flame. Such miracle—to alter fate—the gift of

Prayer. And Father’s heart—a Spirit wild, affixed to love.

Affirm the query, my tear: infuse the Ghost. Else the

Fount, a buried grain; and else the mind, a fallin’ fortress.

I shift, my love: for spirit has trespassed: my eyes, a flood

Of diamonds. The birds, ever alive—a spirit serenade;

And heaven, such ambition. I read every line—gripped

With terror: Heal, my Lord. I shift, my dear, and ponder

Folly—my daily death. But Love, so brilliant; and pain, so

Tender. Thus, the river, our christic baptism.