Spiritual exchange; and there is no worry: A poem 

In the summer heat, when water turns to vapour 

And the angels spring forth from the streets swirling dust 

entwining my arms in camaraderie, shining my body’s rust 

And their lyrics flood my mind’s imaginary fertile paper 

I can talk to the stars in daylight, even night is bright 

In the ravines of solitude, the purest souls alight 

The racecar of virtue never loses, the reward is alright 

with grace and love’s trinkets exchanged; ideals become insight 

Thanking the freedom of love is to make a choice 

Untie the knots of slavery, and have goodness rejoice 

The spirits are whistling, their posture is my poise 

I feel their music in silence, undisturbed by the world’s noise 

And I am talking to, and listening to, and attending to 

a grail circulating, kissed by many lips…and truth 

Overlays my pain and perspiration like a coat of luxuriant paint 

Dissipates all the worry. There are no burdens anymore. No there ain’t