Sacred Art

Wee one, brought bare into cacophony,
this emergent pantheon.
This is your place
of smell, touch, blaring light.
This is how we show our face
annoyed with your lack of social grace.
Immersed, made into a person, a defined moving space,
bound in time, mesmerized roughly, softly,
swirling colors, voices, hands demanding
Outcast from warm womb, safe discipline, of
tribal faith
to create from beyond common form,
the pain of separation, bravery called by
life’s instinctual desire,
tricks of the trade.
Within this sad parade —
the human will to cure, kill, carry on
courageous —
if the art is true, burnt pure in sacrificial
flame, aimed impeccably
— cathedrals of
awe and inspiration, hallmark of salvation
Taste!  Be made aware
of sensation — touch this instant a place
beyond who you’ve ever been.
Beyond glory,
graceful soul-wrought energy
pours through these
sacrificial clowns
poisoned by immortality.
It is for you we bleed,
we cry,
imbued with such weight — to hold
that spark you know could set you free.

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