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
When meditating only upon Thee
No other function takes me out
from 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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