Monday, June 16, 2014

Soul Cake

Lord, why do I love You? In the silent loneliness of my soul, why do I believe?

It is all made of cake. All these things. Nothing is real. Not really mine.
This is cake lamp, cake book, cake antique stool. Shoe cake. Soul cake.

I began praying the Artisan's Prayer, and forgot I was until I heard myself say
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen. 

Lord, shake us up! Me up! Unchain the tiger in my ribcage! I turn into a sallow
mealworm between dreams. What courage is there in me? It doesn't matter.
You do. So help me be true to You.
I am only a balloon, You are the solid, the real, the soul. Cake.


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