An original poem

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the saint of the pyre
   smiled at me
      for he knew
i would believe
in him
in his truth
       in truth alone
which persists and dogmas
              of priests
had managed to hide
                   in foreign languages

i stumbled across the truth
      one day
               in a vacant corner
in my mind
    and the light
    inside
    has never stopped
not even as flames
      engulf me
          as i smile
             at you




An excerpt from A Chorus of Voices
by Kurt Messick
Dry Bones Press, February 2003