I'm in my childhood home
Or a reasonable facsimile thereof
And this holy man with a tome
Talks of visions and love

I seem to recall him relaying
A vision of flame on the ceiling
And fervently preaching and praying
For the group of us gathered 'round kneeling

Like an inverted brook of fire going
Up the stairway and over the hall
The fire represented The Spirit flowing
Like the tongues in Acts alighting on all

And the holy man looks like my father
With sports coat and mock turtleneck
But about details, this man can't bother
And I wake with a start. What the heck?