We art hallowed ground that we’d visit still,

we who whispered loud at the entrance hall...

who sent longing drafts by sighed window sill;

who then echoed back our own slightest call...

We are sacred mounds from clay compound; fired

yet soon tested by the slim nerve endings...

poked and prodded in our thin membranes; tired

of the outside that seeks small openings....

And soon presses thoughts as of Itself/ soft

not yet parted to show the Spirit how....

to act alive in its warm shelter/ clothe

of Life before Death and Its endless Now...

We are greeted by our own molted paths;

far crossed journeys in slow heated baths.

#TheVisit #Challenge