Our temples are hollow and bare.
The better to carry our temples inside of us,
And send our money to the new God.
To him we build new cathedrals of steel and mirrored glass.
His houses of worship open only to the ordained MBAs.
The laity is welcome to stare at its own reflection
on the outside of these new churches
(From whom all good things charge).
It is why we do not sing,
or only sing in solemnity or to overcome sorrow,
For our temples are hollow and bare.
Joy in the soul requires something more
Than four walls and a bookshelf of hymnals.
Just as the spirit requires more nourishment
Than chrome and lobby guards.
*Inspiration/ Title Line from Joseph Campbell’s “The Power of Myth”
2.7 South of the Oregon Trail/strong>
I often wonder how the settlers pushed past the Western deserts.
When they saw the shimmering flats,
The copses of lying Joshua trees,
The flat, red rocks and spiky tumbleweeds,
How did they summon hope and press on?
All along the dry, hot trail,
All along the unforgiving, closed mountains
A hundred miles and more –
Only to reach the dry scrubland of the southwest coast?
What hints from people before them
Got them doggedly past the Mojave,
To the ocean beyond?
Then to reach that great body of water,
And be unable to drink from it?
I would have looked Heavenward and laughed
At the two-thousand mile irony.
That is, if I hadn’t died of cholera along the way.
2.8 can wait
But let me state
I have it written here
I’ll let it stew
Then write for you
Enough to make you cheer 🙂