Worship, II

A Prayer

Photo by Mike Rumbi from Flickr

Do you still pray
to the seed of the earth
that is the tree of the heavens
that is the breathe in your lungs,
that is the wind within your poetry?

The seed finds a home within the home
it blossomed as the tree
of the heavens and the leaves
are the cretin that will not secede
the home that blossomed from the tree
of the heavens
The heavens made such a mess,
I have to confess.
And the mess still plants a seed of the earth
unto the earth
and the leaves upon it
that maybe or may not
secede.

Our Children of the Seed, who art in utopia.
Have no fear.