Worship Night
Notes are hanging in the air
And the Holy Spirit fills like sauna.
When the collective hums
My pipes thrum in sympathy.
It hits like ecstasy;
And all other desires are liars.
Out of many we are one,
And, in this many, we have won.
And this is only the 5th time.
Alas, only 5 more to be,
Someday our Sundays to be
Ever and forever, hopefully.
I apologize for those last lines, for this
Kind of lovin' oven can be DIYed if I choose.
I have the power to encounter Him. I choose to.
I don't need a planning committee indeed.
I'll never always know how to mockup divinity
But I'll try my best on this side of infinity.
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