They
evince soft signs
of
trancelike exultation --
songs
sung less like anthems
than
like distant lullabies –
and
yet so selflessly imbued
with
what they feel to be divine
there
is no other thing
for
them to do but offer this
soft-pillowed
praise -- to chant
its
billowing incantatory line.
They
gently raise their
faint
translucent proclamation.
Who
are they, with their slightly
absent
eyes? What spent
dissociation
do we sense
in
them? What size of thing
resides
in their religious arts?
What is in their hearts?.
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