The long and short of it

A God's priest , short in height, had to pray
To reach a tall stone god's head to garland.
The short priest was dear to the stone god
Who out of love  bent down for the garland
Of marigolds heavy with the scent of a bee.
All our myths are stones, our loves miracles.

We are waiting for our miracle monkey gods
To bend down to our shortness, our five feet
Of body and a few feet of shriveled up spirit
That shall vanish in the ether of a smoky sky.

A tall man may now look down for you to look 
Into his eyes in a diagonal vision of  marriage
By the firelight, in the fragrance of  jasmines.
A white clothed man may turn his beatific eyes
On you standing below the window on the kerb
In a diagonal view from your  body and eyes.
But your body's thoughts shall always remain
Of its vanishing in the smoke of a dead tree. 


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