Praying Over Food

You, pancakes with egg and bacon in between; you, double espresso from Carmo de Minas; you, delicious bolo de fubá with crunchy, sugary crust on top; you, shot of sparkling water: my belly is your Heaven, for I see you for the energy you are. Let me bow my head over you and pray, and my prayer will be a contract to use the energy you give me to do Good. Your destiny is a gesture of kindness; a timely moment of self-restraint; a smile; that hidden extra effort that I put into Loving Life and my Fellow Human Beings will come from the energy that each of you provide me with now, at breakfast.

So worry not, oh food of Foods, oh energy of Energy, oh cooperative vibrations of the celestial orchestra grouped in your respective forms like the drums, strings, and trumpets at the gates of the Kingdom! See that my teeth are the Pearly Gates and my body is the karma burning furnace in which your tastiness, your Love, will know both an End and a Beginning, and that you shall be dispatched, post-haste, through Acts directed at the King of Kings, the God of Gods, as flowers of celebration at the wedding of opposing houses from which the Prince of Peace will be born.

Amen.

Vibrations & Silence

At the horizon where a

Now larger than

you might

imagine

meets a tomorrow

beyond Belief,

Saint Truth awaits you.

He will appear at

the doorway,

heart-shaped,

and you'll say,

no way, I don't believe it,

how obvious, how

can it be?

You will be the silence

digesting your own questions

into quarks and quasars

beaming back upon yourself

and when you are the silence

your body is not of skin

and forms exposed by light

but vibrations:

You are either music,

noise, or static within

your hitherto silent eternity;

but it depends on so many things

and it is a formidable task

that the sharpest logic

should shake hands with Truth

and not need to see its blood

to know it lives.