Discipline

        The urge for prayer
        Is its best answer
        And I am learning
        No words

        I want to pray
        In measured breaths
        And rhythmic foot strikes
        On the rough surfaces
        Of these mountain roads

        It is the heart's prayer
        I want most
        No heart of sentiment
        But that fist-sized muscle beating
        Tireless in the dark

        The stars themselves
        Must be part of a heartbeat
        Expanding, contracting, bursting outward again
        In a frequency beyond our measure
        Through space no more empty
        Than our own

        If you seek
        God's image with us
        Look for nothing
        Still


Copyright © Cy Dillon, 2000.  All Rights Reserved.