He disappeared for days
And when he came back his face
Was so radiant, so serene,
And all the sounds were in his head,
Ready to be born.
The spirit is rising,
And the times are auspicious.
The preacher cried a spiral
Of whispers, sobs and psalms,
Finer and finer the insight
Suffering its melodies
To sound their alarms.
I believe in all religions and none.
Skyward flies the sound
Of a soul in question,
Wrestling clouds and angels
To the ground,
Bound, then released,
Cursed, then blessed.
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