(there are churches left standing in war zones.)

there are churches left standing in war zones and
they're a symbol
of far-off war-torn places
because destruction is universal.

(blood stains the walls
but they are still holy
and still there.)

there are churches left standing in war zones on
the front page of newspapers,
shouting numbers and figures
but never tragedy.

(there is nothing more powerful
than a bombed-out miracle.)

there are churches left standing in war zones because
soldiers know that in churches
words cut deeper than bullets,
than bayonets,
and the destruction of that power
would be atomic bomb
ground zero
hiroshima nagasaki
hundreds dead and
decades of fallout.

(hospitals and morgues are gone.
the church still stands.)

there are churches left standing in war zones
filled with dust and rubble
and blood and death and dying
and faith screaming for hope
and the church is still standing
but nothing
else
breathes.

(and the church watches war
and she laughs.)

Write lines upon my heart
in pure white light
and I will read them
  
Taste the nectar
of unbounded
sincerity

Breathe in blossoming
warm compassion

Taste the nectar
of unbounded
sincerity

Touch the tender pool
of infinite white light
    
Breathe in blossoming
warm compassion

Taste the nectar
of unbounded
sincerity

Meet me in the air space
between your thoughts
For this is holy ground