House of the UnHoly

thoughts strung on a line of wire
reaching out to nowhere
heads wrapped in leather dreams
hearing the leaves whisper your name
the past has returned in a circle
of orbiting rock of ages
the saviour of your soul
has touched your hand
but your refusal to recognize
his tears of sadness
and how they touch
with the pointed finger of love
leaves you alone
in the
house of the unholy

Gomer LePoet....