Spiritus Sancti Poem by Kurt Philip Behm
Spiritus Sancti
The divinity of art
hiding in the folds
Draping o'er the multitudes
placing time on hold
Its pristine encumbrance
so gently it calls
Speaking to our purity
transcending the small
The divinity of art
in all of its forms
Its music seeks to woo us
its canvas adorns
And once it gains entry
our emptiness hides
Eternity surrenders
—and Heaven presides
(The New Room: May,2023)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/11/2024 6:13:27 PM # 1.0.0.1119
