Monastic Meter
Time
Passes
So Slowly
That souls
Become holy
By dipping their fingers in wine.
.
But
Somehow
The
Silence
Sets up
A defiance
So that my own thoughts are not mine.
.
And
Then the
Controls
Go
When singing
The soul’s woe
For all of the feelings aren’t fine.
.
But
What does
It
Matter
If former’s
Not latter
As long as we’re able to dine?
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About cdsmiller17
I am an Astrologer who also writes about world events. My first eBook "At This Point in Time" is available through most on-line book stores. I have now serialized my second book "The Star of Bethlehem" here. And I am experimenting with birth and death charts. If you wish to contact me, or request a birth chart, send an email to cdsmiller17@gmail.com. (And, in case you are also interested, I have an extensive list of celebrity birth and death details if you wish to 'confirm' what you suspect may be a past-life experience of yours.) Bless.
cdsmiller17 
I hadn’t realized that “Monastic Meter” is similar to the opening song in the opera “Faust”.
“Red or white liquor,
Coarse or fine!
What can it matter,
So we have wine?”
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