Photo Credit: Gaertringen (via pixabay)

‘Till All The False Was Burned

Before the story ever left my lips
with all its worries busy everywhere
I knew I must reduce the crazy clutter
that limits possibilities in prayer

so holding counsel, paused another round
I sat in silence where the road was crossed
and listened to my breathing as an art
which surfaced all my fears about the loss

and all the angels watching knew for sure
my efforts were of sorts commendable
but cosmic laws have levels to be reached
where authenticity’s immutable

and this is how the show moves on apace
the purifying fire — no stone unturned
suggesting that the story in my head
remained unsaid ‘till all the false was burned.

© Joshua Bond 2016