11 Ik
White Spectral Wind
When all excess
dissolves from fev’rish day
And minutes
disappear in metaphor
Then alabaster bones
alone do stay
Supporting one
activity – no more
Necessities
expendable become
I meditate entirely
on Thee
No other function takes
me from my home
Not hunger, commerce,
nor philosophy
Contemplation truly
undertaken
Sustains the mind,
the body and the soul
Bliss pervades and
ecstasies awaken
All else is rendered
dross when Thou art goal
If naught but
thought of Thee is my desire
Then neither death
nor life can quench the fire.
©Kleomichele Leeds
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