It looks like I’m soaring
Riding the updraft of traffic below
Never going up..just incrementally gliding down

But I’m in a slow-motion flat-spin
The only control coming from gravity and momentum
I’m not scared or frantic
Just observing, knowing I should be feeling more

I am trying to live with my faith
Not gone and not here

I long for passion that would force me from my trance
Of swirling
The passion of a fierce fight
Of hungry ***
Of unexpected joy

But there is no color or music
There is no scent; floral or putrid
I miss the smell of God
My God