Fane of the Heart
today
the mind
we are
the world
March 9, 2001
snow fell for hours
like particles of cloud
and we walked outside
making footprints
everywhere
is templed by our dreams
we approach, astonished
postulants
finally old enough
to know the only
sacred place
is where we meet
ourselves
is the fane of the heart,
washed by wonder's ardent
consecration
Copyright © Amy Belding Brown