[Day 22] Truth

No prophet, seer, stone, bone, or card

can capture the Truth that

pours from Your lips as they

press to my hips.

No sermon, hymn, or chant can 

enrapture me as deeply as Your

fingers threaded through my hair

pulling me closer, fevered whispers,

pleading - yes, there - more - 

louder than any symphony

this ecstasy has me speaking

in tongues, wild with need

and more pure than any liturgy