“Little Significance”


“Little Significance”

Little significance on whose lips reaction calls
The truth or what the colour of the robes of those who pause
To listen to the calculated mumblings of the laws,
The cause that measured adhans’ five-fold mantra from the minarets draws
Upon the Great Announcement, Who it was Who met the woman at the well
And told her every last thing she’d done. It comes to me
That in the raising of a cabbie’s meter or the parson’s purse to ease
The laboured journey of prisoners in conspicuous living hell
That crop the weeds of Georgia’s highways for some small
Offence that no one in the highness of Tibetan caves
Would notice raises splendid intercourse at tea
for spinsters in Vermont who salivate
In guarded whispers, salacious odes to grease the priests whose caterwaul,
Recalls the muezzin raised above it all in shibboleths of mitigated light
Through synagogues, mosques, and churches clothed in antiquated rites.

One response to ““Little Significance”

  1. One man awakens. Others ask for words. The words are given with a warning that the words are only words. They carry away the words like small treasures and begin to shape a religion. Rites & Rules & Laws. Bye-bye awakened one. Easier to dream about God with prayers than face him naked and awake. And so it goes… from place to place, from time to time… from Georgia’s highways to Tibetan caves. Nicely chiseled, as always, sir.

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