At the monastery, the tall cathedral walls of my stone ego crumble into a pile on the floor Prostrate they lay~ a stubborn unwanted remnant replaced with salty tears of shame that pool into my mouth
Down the corridor I hear their voices~ the good monks who live in solitude Every reverent note piercing my heart like a shard of stained mosaic glass until its decayed chambers fibrillate with a surge of energizing love that torques its motor back to life
A church bell clangs loudly in the distance The ancient bronze ordering the dark well of my soul to drag itself back home and never look back again