prescient tense/sacrament

This poem is part of a cycle I wrote a few years ago, but has been given limited release.

prescient tense/sacrament

sacred is your happiness, sacred is your heart.
sacred is the distance that still keeps us apart.
I feel the divine in the bread and the wine
and the dances you dance to a music within.

sacred is your fragrance, sacred is your touch,
sacred is the sanity that means so little much
when the world has lost its focus and has curled
into a knot that is caught upon on troubles we forgot.

sacred are your kisses, enough and yet too few,
sacred is the promise yet unspoken there by you.
patience is a virtue that evolves with much resolve
to unlock the treasure hidden until you know you are sure.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.