It is possible to ring with crystalline purity
like a wineglass traced by fingertips.
Each of us bearing Fingerprints,
evidence in clay.
Whether we be muddiest earth
or turned perfectly transparent,
Our heart of hearts remains
Hidden even to us.
Whether it be holy of holies
or den of demons….Well,
How does it resonate?
Do its walls reverberate
with that lone immutable Note?
Consume the Word and hear
His name sung on your palate.
Taste and see that the Lord is good
Make your heart His palace.
Clench your lips tight; dare not
Speak His mysteries to enemies.
Careful not to purse those lips in a
Pose of betrayal.
Nick Skiles is a part-time essayist, any-time poet, and a full-time dad to three children. He is of hearty Appalachian hobbit stock and a convert to Eastern Orthodoxy. His essays appear periodically in Front Porch Republic. He recently self-published an e-book of poetry entitled Unseasonable Poems. He lives, prays, reads, writes, gardens and goes on long walks in Canton, Ohio.