A Ritual is Never Hollow

A ritual is never hollow; sweet words,
Happy ancient words, from the dawn of time,
Sung through the air, refreshing as a waterfall
Discovered at dusk on a marching day:

A ploughman bidding his beads to Jerusalem
A child who’d rather not sit still during Mass
A holy sister hymning along the Rhine
A wise man seeking still that elusive Star

Heal chaos through their living in the Hours -
Oh, no – a ritual is never hollow