Holy Book

Water becomes wine and is sated.
Swords beaten into plowshares
till the rocky earth.
Dry bones dance, their fingers castanets.
A world becomes a sea of water,
few float to the top.
A mustard seed
becomes promise.
A fig tree withers.

Cain becomes the other.
Black as night.
We turn away.
Wise men turn East.
Traveling in caravans with spices for a babe,
incense for funeral cloth.
Angels announce glad tidings,
Swinging their swords,
once plowshares, and strike.
Golden streets burn to ash
under your feet.

Find which way
the wind blows,
the Spirit will carry you,
Humming Psalms of forgiveness.
Before the fall.
Before the fall.