Two chairs right beside
the centre of a Gothic cross;
laid down centuries back;
renovated, seems a few years.
Yoke, the law of nature,
at the flowered aisle
inside the wide fuselage
of this weekly flight to salvation.
High the pitch, feedback
as the wired mouths
get tuned to hum and usher
in a new life for the couple.
Love unites their desires,
vows join their lives;
an act to sustain the race,
or is it a race to quench the thirst...
... The dried lips of a traveller
caught in the shifting dunes,
tired of the mindless mirage,
finally kiss the spring of life.
(I reached way late at church today. Service over, only a few decorators remained and they were dressing up the place for a wedding. A big day for the couple involved . I sat and watched the men go about their work and did my bit...)
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