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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