eucharistic memory

as in a landscape, lost to eyes unused to being found

travelling a wide, moist and blackened road;

beneath, the soil and stones lay with restless

resonance-

on either side grow a few trees and a few purveyors

of luxury

though they have never been lost, neither the

shopkeeps or the accidental trees.

do not seek aid of those stores, wandering pilgrim,

in time will come death or

new life

warm, clean rain will fall on those verdant trees

and that soil underfoot or

all around

will continue to cleave unto all,

that rain will be

our benediction,

euchari, euchari. benedictum sunt canticum

caelistis.

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