Organ Of Eternity Poem by Zyw Zywa

Sometimes everything is open and
the wind rushes out of the chest
downbelow into the empty space

of the ship, vibrating
between the pews and around
the altar, the air is alive
in the sacred semi-darkness

My consciousness expands
lets thoughts float on exercises
and improvisations to arrange them
and let them land in their place
during the lunch break in the chapel

My teens, the sixties
of the century, meditating
in the sacred semi-darkness
of the organ of eternity