Music murmurs its prayer.
Candles light their way to contemplation.
The clock ticks silently – the silence of electricity.
Words of service are spoken,
Thankyous and pleas for forgiveness and blessing…
White spandrels of blossoms stand in old waters at our feet –
My feet – for there’s nobody there.
Just the silent, holy emptiness of God.
In duty all the words are said.
The candlelight is snuffed. The music stilled
The silence envelops you, enwraps you like a baby’s shawl,
Tenderly caresses with love, silkily strokes your brow;
Pleshey Chapel, 19 May, 2017