You know that we’ll falter
You know that at times the tides of mind are halted
Sometimes the rust on the busts for the masks upon us serve signal to leave them behind

I refuse to believe this indulgent disgust is a cultural must
The solution is you plus the absence of you
The wisdom of ages is not unchanging, it is singing
It is smearing dirt across faces and rolling down hillsides of earthly embraces

When my sister was little, my mom asked her a question
Curious for a child’s perspective on the matter
"What is God?”

Without a shred of hesitation, she looked my mom in the eye
And replied as if confused that the question would need to be asked
“God is Singing”