A Sun Day In Dallas Poem by Troy Cochran

My soul demands a broad horizon,
a universe around its bed
when rising from its gardens.

When my soul lifts up its head
from pulling weeds out by their roots
in carefully laid out visions of civilization,
nature's fruits and flowers are but a fraction:
it must have fragrances as well from every person
till my nostrils breathe the spice and flavors of emotion.

Jesus alone could never be my only
anthem. All life sings, and I am lifted
by the slightest breeze
and by the confluence of commotion.

Not God alone in some distant heaven
for this humble soul's devotion: the expanse
of all my thought demands of these
an ocean.

My soul demands a constant interruption
of these city scenes
for its contemplation;
a sunbeam for a rake or broom to sweep away
the old debris of what's been loosened up in me
by trials and tribulations.

In a word:
my church is bigger than it seems.
It has no walls to shut out all the world's
imaginations.