Ghosts Though We Are

I sing songs without melody,

I write rhymes in rhythm, so

I might bare the Breath, set free,

From Sources echoing Eternally.

Some at a glance might guess,

My meter measured and poured,

That my Muse was Love manifest,

That my words were sacred oil stored.

Within this temple of flesh,

Fuel for the Flame within,

Praise rising, altar’s incense fresh —

Revealing revelation again.

Eyes once ever darkened,

Now alight to truly give,

A glimmering glimpse, contrast stark,

Of the Father Present, abiding.

I sing with words written in ether,

Songs pulsing through digital lands,

Sharing visions from heights high,

And gutter-ball lows that still stand.

Ghosts though we wander here,

Still seeking the Source when near,

That we might rejoin the Radiance,

And once more rise to dance.