Old habits…

I sat in the sanctuary.Habit, need even.

Absorbing the smells and obscene marble.

I knelt and looked to my left and right.

Understanding the most innocent, pure love.
I sat in the regular weekly pew.

Habit, need even.

Praying to the chants, 

and saints from before.

I look to the Angels above my head, 

the candles burning for sacrifice. 

The canonized predecessors who gave so much.
My thoughts are you. 

Habit, need even.

I count the verses, 

Recalling from memory.

I count the syllables,

Recalling from memory. 

Finding it hard to focus.
My thoughts are the numbers in my head. 

Habit, need even.

1-4-3–6

The constant loop.
I sat in the sanctuary,

Thinking of you.

Habit, need even.

Recalling from memory. 

The words can be counted, 

The building may burn.

The candles will be lit,

Incense upon the loss. 

Counting still on you.  

Recalling from memory. 

For you. 
The habit, need even.

Well, that is you. 

Recalling from what I know. 

What I’ve always known.

1-4-3–6

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