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Liturgy of a Lake
Water like a lion’s breath
That rising softened heat
A ripple up above me
The sky beneath my feet
The waves bring my body
To where my spirit’s gone:
Beneath the green and glassy lake
Where a flame is burning on
Rejoicing in this moment
I whisper a watery prayer
Inhaling the steady current
And drinking honeysuckle air
The breeze prepares communion
As my soul is served on ice
When I hear the solemn footsteps
Of our dear beloved, Christ
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This article has 23 comments.
I almost never intend to use a certain style, the content is what guides me to write the ways I write. What is my usual style?
Ooh! I'm glad you thought of it that way.
Too many people think that dying is the end. We poets need to break the rigidity of the concept of death! After all, "to the well organized mind, Death is but the next greatest adventure..."
This seems very different from your usual style. Did you intend that?
It's beautiful! It feels like s sort of death description, the moments after death when a new life begins, a new world is entered.