That big ball of

God’s energy

has gone above

and beyond me.


I used to think

and pray and dream

but I’ve lost ink

and heart and steam.


The beauty in

the truth of good

is just as thin

as stain on would.


There’s nothing left

in my account.

It’s human theft

of spirit’s mount.


NOTE: A friend of mine challenged me to write a poem about spiritual bankruptcy…something she filed for today. How—and where?—does a person file such a pleading? Over cellular lines of communication, by speaker, into the void! Who takes the case? We do. We are all members of The Supreme Court Of Humanity.

God has no jurisdiction where there is such a separation of spirit and state of being.

The End.




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