If The Lord doesn’t laugh
The poem doesn’t fly
By the seat of the pants
A graceful journey by faith
With the will of the Lord
If you don’t try to fly
I lament if The Lord
Does not laugh and play
Seriously wills another day
Laughs at weeks taken to
Prepare weekend gatherings
For fun
By your own accord
Possess as grounded being
Your supernatural gifts
The tables are turned
Onto the temple floor
Up-righted
In the Upper Room
By the daughter’s door
An empty hall once mother
Of holy cathedral worship
By the father’s disciples
To the daughters lament.

Original 10 11 2009
Improvisation 02 20 10