Holy Images

I bowed my sweaty head during a troublesome
dream yesterday, but I didn’t
need to bawl just yet.
And a golden oil lamp was dimly lit on an oak
table close to me, as a hyssop
branch struck my face.
It didn’t feel as though I was alone in my musty
cave as I inhaled, sensing the
burning question . . .
“Have you been wise, hearing and obeying these
teachings of mine, or have you
been a foolish person?”
I thought to myself that He must certainly be here
because it’s true, He is always
near, especially in spirit.
But His tone was blue as I peered out toward His
spring of holy water – yonder a
copper bell sounded, too.
Let there be no doubt that I have been absurd, my
Lord of Nazareth, and flickering
candles should scald me.
Else I be astonished along with the multitudes and
embrace Your words, taught with
authority and living order.

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