The smells of frankincense and myrrh made holy the air...
As white flames with smoke veiled the deity...
The one priest with folded hands and bowed head...
Offered his obeisance to the one he had always thought of as his own... his one Lord God!

Far away in an unknown land...
Another man was counting the beads of his rosary...
Singing hymns in praise of the One...
His protector and nourisher... His one Almighty God!

Yet when night took over the day...And the two men prepared for slumber...
The universal One sang the same cosmic lullaby:
"My children under one roof...!"

Frozen apple on the mantle
Rolled in a icy sheet of silver white
Crimson red, lightened to a tint of pink
A decorative piece on the mantle, rests
Crunch

My path ahead, troubled;
through the blankets of snow, I plod.
I find myself in the wood,
boughs shrouded in fog.

The mist like a fever,
weighing down my soul.
I come to the fork in the road,
where I dither and brood.

Awake, yellow sun!
Cast your rays of light.
Rid me from this veil,
my peril, and plight.

Sweet mornings song,
notes carried through the wind.
My path now clear,
no struggle within.

Handle with care,
Fragile,
.
.
.
.
.
Like a bomb.
9/8/2020