PRIESTHOOD

In the home on the horizon of the ever slow rising sun,

  lives one,

  a priest,

  now one with the stars he’s won the battle over mars,

  metaphysically releasing his body to the foggy realm of tranquility

  on a mission to embody lucidity indefinitely,

  now remembering nothing of the calendar being worked on in the back room,

  colloquial conversants quietly opposing one another alongside a carefully

  created map of the stars,

  the priest now stops emanating through his meditating mind,

  and focuses on matter,

  the matter now blocking the entrance to his abode,

  then comes knocking,

  as quickly as it had started it had finished with the door opening abruptly,

  now bestowed to the vision of the priest was a sick man falling to his arms and knees,

  the breeze was acknowledged and the door was closed, within hours

  the man was back on his feet,

  and the priest,

  back in his seat…