Down the hollow hallways

of the years,

Grain upon grain,

Silently censoring life’s course.


Flattened face,

Pressed hard,

Straining, struggling, searching

Against time’s clock.


Clouded glass

Fogged with distraction

heaped upon distraction

in clogged diversion.


Soul’s ephemeral salve

of camphored activity,

Futilely failing

as eternal elixir.


Living much

and seeing not.


Earth’s ointment of

Hummingbirds hover

Dipped in reverent awe

of silent contemplation.


To peer deep

at humming flutter

Windex for the

soul’s eyes.


Beauty beheld

in silent knock

begging, pleading

for healing entry.


To salve the soul

where the soul’s salve lies,

In beauty’s dance

across all forms.


Humbled head before the hover

Bowed to Beethoven,

Bent knee to Rembrandt’s brush

in silent submission.


Recognizing the Greater

from one lesser,

Rubs the glass

With cleansing cloth.


Seeing a glimmer.


For on the knees

Is Truth well found

making purpose of

each grain.