Description
Hi THE DOME
And where does Spirit lay her gentle head?
In golden relics,
Walls of stone,
Incensed in shrines
and dusty bones
Or comforting lost souls instead?
Now where does Spirit lay her gentle head?
In arches curved,
Admired Domes,
On candeled altars,
Diamond thrones,
Or begging with cold hunger to be fed?
Now where does Spirit lay her gentle head?
In doctrines preached
Or memorised in dread,
In robes and frills
Or choirs of tills
Or resting near a child without a bed?
So, Where does
Spirit lay her gentle head?
Where tourists flock, to take their stock of selfied souvenirs
Or buy their beads and holy creeds and
talismans of fear?
Their gaping holes
Proud, empty souls
Gaze up, beyond the tears.
L’Amo
