My Church, My Temple

I have wandered churches and temples,
Laid by statues of rock and altars of crystals.
I have chanted prayers of devotion,
And offered garlands to a vast ocean.

I have knelt at every wooden pew,
Left a train of candles burning.
For a drop of rain or winds of change,
A sign: of seasons turning.

I have stared into endless fires,
Followed their smoke to the skies
Until there— I found God in your eyes
And the way they see the stars.

My church, my temple,
Tell me, my wonder-
Why do we wander?
Ruminate and ponder?

When you stand, arms open
Hands outstreched, ready palms to touch.
Still we starve and we steel ourselves,
Calling your love too much.

Throw me over your shoulder,
Clutch me close, in gridlocked traffic.
Teach me Christmas songs in July
Teach me to harmonise with the static.

So when existence feels as dense,
As impossible as oil and water.
I will hear your voice in every silence
And sing back– what a wonder!