From an amphitheater
Of one martyr to a ghost town
Where the fragrance of souls
And stubs of candles still hover
Like alien space crafts
UFOs – Unidentified Flying Objects
Seemingly there is no glory in church
In a rundown colonial edifice
Cracks emerging like in the bastion of faith
Plastered by story-telling
Visibly this too is a parable
That what is unscientific and unempirical
Is short of gasoline or jet fuel
Which nevertheless exists
In stellar places and galactic clouds
Faith is like that….
Its bigger than you and me
And that little white church,
And when the conscience expands
Exponentially and bursts
With no prejudice or motive
That is where faith can be found
And that bed of fecund soil
Is where the big white church
Will always be……
