By James Schwartz
The fire is dimming, the ashes smolder.
The night is over, mount your mistakes.
Music begins, the throne of God shakes.
East and West will never meet.
I’ll unbind your garments, close the door.
Govern my body on a Wilder shore.
The wine supped, the hour late.
If you stay, you cannot say,
That you have never heard me pray.