by the soft sand-kissed breeze
wound past the trappist trees
in through opportune window
do I sit and read of God
while waiting for the 5:30 pm meal bell
…and I know now
amid rich ripe smells
a cooked beef and vegetable atmosphere
of kitchen clucking clatter
that fasting is lost upon me
for I am fat of mind and body
while starved heart beats slow beneath
dying house of a beggared soul
dry as desert bleached bones
Harnessing Chaos 