THE CELESTIAL MIRTH
A poet not so pleased with men and ground
raised up his eyes and looked at distant skies.
He grasped a thought just like an angel white
that charmed his heart and brought him great delight.

The angel was so pure, a simple nun,
so clean of heart and far from worldly whims,
obsessed with what was good for tortured men
and eager to endow the touch of Christ.

He found himself so cleaned of worldly dirt
that stuck to him from gluey desert sweat.
He felt a shower of the morning dew
did wash away the squalor of his world.

He was so pleased with what he sensed above,
the purest longing and the deepest love
that carried him to profound, pleasant thoughts
without what fouls the earth and spoils its mirth.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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