Vespers spoke behind the veil
in a language none shall hear
intoned with a natural flair
honeyed words flit to my ear

I would ask who spoke aloud
syllables I'd dare not speak
except I know it was myself
chorus to the Almighty's bliss

vestments decked my other frame
one or another, they were changed
though the latter was preferred
a holy cassock of many hues

the quiet pride of my expression
was condoned by the phantoms
just as real as myself
yet immaterial within the fog

these invocations disturb my day
when memory trips back to sleep
asking nothing in return
but promising much in verity

beauty sought is mercy's gap
no longer harboring safe respite
as the holy is made clear
behind the veil of fancied dreams.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180112.