Often perspective arrives as I write. This is one of those days.
On days that I sit and wait,
Like this day,
I ponder my place
In the Kingdom.
At almost 59
I imagine my place
Under the altar,
All the good I can do
From the catacombs,
Though really there is space
Underneath me
As well.
The children play there
In cold weather.
Sometimes
Women dance
In the evenings.
Sometimes,
Kicked out of the upper hall,
The stamp people
Meet there too.
The Kingdom extends
Below and above.
Really I am in the middle
Of the Kingdom
Just as I have always been.
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