Incense
& music
candle light
& stained glass
these
my religion
the church
of the senses
my only existence
lost
in the sweet jangle
of the swinging brazier
prayer
forming in the air
real & tangible
as a ghost
coiling &
uncoiling
like a snake
made of smoke
wrapping itself
around the choir's
sweet voices
love to see
the words
clothed
in smelly smoke
ascend
the perfumed air
building a stairway
of music
made suddenly
visible
reaching for a Heaven
even then
I knew
did not
exist
glorying only
in the make believe
the theatre
of the self.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
GOD! i wish i could write like this Donall. i wuz floating away with the smoke as i read it. genius.