Reverie

"I am open, like the door on a church"

waiting

for you to come in.

To speak or to silently worship,

to confess or to marvel at the

wonder,

to grant me grace

and purpose.

For a church is nothing

but a building of divine devotion,

meaningless

without a mission.

Your words are not alms,

unless you will them to be.

They are

stones and sticks,

bones and bricks,

for building up

or throwing down.

For rising high

or weighing 'round

ascending hands to sky

or

planting feet in ground.

Speak them as you would build

or break

something dear.

Do not hurl them

carelessly at

sacred hearts.

They will fracture,

tearing apart leaded veins

bleeding white light

holes

through rainbow refraction.

They are meant to be offerings

presented with trembling

hands

palms cupped heaven word

giving as they receive.

An infinite loop:

Immeasurable,

inexhaustible

and boundless,

enduring

beyond the day

church doors drift close

and prayers become

forever silent.