SpindleWorks

an introduction :

I was at a church choir concert one time, and there was also a concert, about two miles away by "Metalica" . Some young people from our church had chosen to go there instead, just to see and learn: at least that was the logic.

There would always be another choir concert, but this group would only be in town once. In the midst of a beautiful psalm, it seemed as though the city darkness had temporarily dissapeared. Yet in the background noise, and in my imagination the bus loads of faces, could still be occasionally heard, going by.

Another Breath Longer

Ancient pipes make such wonderful sounds.

Christ stands frozen in leaded glass,

Smiling, yet helplessly fading as the sun sets down.

Sounds of praise more ancient than creation;

Inspired and sung before all time began,

Swell against the walls,

Spill through the halls;

Pour over into the streets,

But in the darkness, the buses roll by.

Voices of song, both weak and strong,

Sing to the God of creation,

With and in, the strength of David's psalm.

Once when the earth was still young and growing,

The sweet smell of a single,

simple burnt offering,

Was all that gave us the next day's sun.

Gave bells their chimes, clocks their time,

And by grace, let the earth spin round.

Still in the darkness, the buses roll by.

rh

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