The citadel welcomes its warriors,
its artists,
its spiritual children,
with the anointment of water.
The transparent elixir of life,
the wine of baptismal purity.
Such reconditeness flew
through my thoughts
watching the priest
perform the ritual of entrance
to the shadow of God.
The hum of the earth’s mantra,
the wind that blows over the lids
of earth and awakens its sleep.
But are these poetic children
valued for the price of their promise,
or the songs they will leave
at the altar of creation?
With their hearts murmuring
the transcendency of love,
and the smile that forgives death
its momentary silence,
with the embrace of heaven’s
eternity.