The soft bells ring and beat the sacred time,
Yet Silence speaks in wisps sublime.
The Bread made Word, a feast prepared;
“Arise weak man, your soul be aired!”
Then hefty gates swing wide – reveal,
An inner passage with sacred seal;
And sitting unkempt toes curled on floor,
He kneels before me? The Christ, the Door.
Now lifting, loving, dancing… … Selah.
I pause to feel the warmth of Fire;
Oh, Advocate, so tender, so sweet,
How blessed am I to wake and meet.
Speak! Speak! I bend my ear:
A whisper, a word, a command to hear.
“Go forth poor soul, with Love and Power,
To pray and work, from hour to hour.
Then once again you’ll receive your Host:
The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.”
© Paul Dordal, 2015