not-so-Vincent

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  mckinleycooper
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In my holy chapel
Whose arches span
From the equator to the Arctic
I sit in the sun and sort my words

Quiet conquers all

Past the horizon
I worship the unseen
The congregation of waves
Ministers to me

I gaze at Saints and apostles
Painted on the sphere of sky
Who debate in the Holy of Holies
And emerge through the veil, alive

I could never dwell among them--
Their wings get in my way
Just let me sleep below their feet

Tides and time wash words away,
Banish heartache to the deep
Bury old wounds at sea

I cannot afford crucifix or tears
I shed the finery to worship here

Rain pelts green waves
Now blue after sea skies
Rise fast again to brilliance

Pouring warm words over my heart
To turn my back on destruction

from Cathedrals






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