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Friday, July 29, 2005

La Poeme Du Jour

My path and my process are darker than most. But they're not entirely devoid of illumination.

Cindy


A Religious Experience

This house no longer hums
with the sound of chanting.
The drone of prayer—
long since stilled.
And faith, once a fortress,
has gone through windows
open and unguarded,
residing perhaps with younger,
greener pilgrims now.

Salvation holds no promise
for a soul, hope-wearied
and withered. Yet
one truth has stained me
declaring that I am
the Architect of my destiny.
I alone am to blame
should the structure bear
either crack or criticism.

The scheme—if flawed
won’t be fixed
with the noise of dogma.
If I distrust the Doctor,
and can’t stomach the Placebo,
then all I have faith in—
is the disease.

1 Comments:

Blogger ladyshark said...

Architect of my destiny?

surely when we make our beds, we have to sleep in it. but sometimes, God/unknown power, might have a hand in things. everything has a reaction. the best laid plans of mice and men....

surprise is what worries me. and you can't prepare yourself.

11:14 PM  

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