Bell

We would see the priest dance
A camphor’s flame around God

Lighting up God’s smiling face
And the bell would ring hollow

And sound would superimpose
Light on our God’s smiling face

And a fragrance of God’s smile
Would rise on camphor’s death.

Our God would smile in hollow
From metallic variation of bell

And the dying flame of oil lamp
In falling fever of bell’s tongue.

God smile is our stone of death,
A flame dying to a bell’s sound

A tongue rising to ring  hollow
From fevered emptiness of life.

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