Why do we have Time if Now is never it?
Why Think and Pray if thought does not permeate
and the sacred is without bond to the day?
We are dashed upon the rocks relentlessly,
a daily chore of the grime and your offering is this?
If this be the epitaph you pretend to write…
for your teeming victims’ garland of overdue supplication…
may the inkwell be overturned in convulsed mourning,
and the paper meeting fire be the light guiding our meager way.
Listen now, sanctify this:
Relent the hourglass from your battle-stiff’d hands
let it all shatter and walk the perilous yet hallowed path.
Unclench your faith-sick hands to let them know purpose,
in the joining with fingers which have traced
the world with yours, together having known
every continent of covenant from heart to heart, from sea to sea.
Let every embrace be when we pray-
let every moment be when we think,
let every bond be sacred to the day.