Within sacred walls we echo
sacred words, hoping they follow
us out into the cold reality.
Yet that warmth eventually fades,
leaving tendrils of loneliness
in its wake, hungry for another
safe sanctuary to rekindle
our inner flame.
But how sustainable is this?
How can we warm the torches of others
if our own runs so low?
We must learn to feed this fame ourselves,
learn not to starve but rather
maintain what we have,
if not add fuel or cap
when low or blazing.
We must echo our own sacred words,
turn the mundane into holy,
walk a path that turns
enemies into friends,
the inert into actors.
Our sacred words go beyond
normal life, pressing and
manifesting change with vowels,
consonants pruned in audible temperance.
We, ourselves, make our mouths
sacred space, sacred homes
to walk in and around to bless.
Giving what we can, not all we have,
is the modest and moderate way
to carry a torch of light
that is so desperately needed
in someone else’s Long Night.