Direct Line

A-B conversation
Held in a chapel
Between time and space
Like the space between pages
Or inside the wall
This realm’s reception rare
I take the call
My face is so still
For my own voice, so shrill
Has no place
In these A-B conversations
I lift off the ground
There isn’t a sound
But the dialogue, so clear
Makes it’s way to my heart’s ear
And I feel the presence
The aura, it’s pleasant
God is now present
I know God is here
I had no conscious question
But I listen with reverence
For I know that the Master
Hears silent beckons
I’m prostrate, I’m poised
Telepathy’s noise
Meditate, listen
For creator’s kind dishing
I awaken not cured
But with new remedy
My beliefs in a blender
Soul’s detox, surrender
And I need no prayer
For I’m already sold
Nothing added, alas
Stripped is the old
It’s a glitch in the matrix
When I’m granted with peace
This cleansing levitation
In these A-B conversations…
But be I the agent
Tethered to God
Enter, Exhibit A:
The monologue.

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