LIKE PASSIONS?

 LIKE PASSIONS? 

 

Face of flint

Desert-wise 

 Sun-scorched skin

Burning eyes

  Moves untouched  

Through lands of blight

 Brought bread and flesh

Noon and night 

By just this soul

The heavens stall

No dew, no rain

But at his call

 Held in check

Till duty rouse   

Raven-fed

And widow-housed

Hordes of priests

No fire can bring 

Yet just one prayer  

Brings Carmel's King

We think it odd 

To see not his God 

 Yet rarely stir  

Our frail desire

So where's our passion? 

Where's our fire? 


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