There is the empty chapel, only the wind’s home.
It has no windows, and the door swings,
~
forget
all that
just
for a moment
consider the nature
of a shrine
a location
for relics
sainted relics
but
what
is a saint
do we discuss
religion now . . .
belief . . .
the spirit . . .
what comprises
a relic
of worth
and
is it a thing
to be
worshipped
what spirit
remains
to receive
such obeisance
in a scatter
of white ribs
that were
once
leviathan
~
I like this one very much.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Liz. I have a sense of how to proceed with this thread to conclusion now. That helps.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome, Frank.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I am amazed at this series of poems, Frank.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s been an interesting process, following Eiot’s original linesand phrases. The White Whale thread came out of nowhere, but I think that it holdssome of the esssence of the Waste Land within it.
Maybe.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I guess the answer depends on whether or not the leviathan is a whale or a fallen angel A wonderful concept here
LikeLike