The stones of the altar are the foundation of my faith,
Built up by the happenings of my life in all its intricate details.
The wood is the tree of me, both good and bad, offered up to burn the sweet smelling sacrifice
That is my flesh and all its earthly desires.
The fire is You, consuming the wood and the flesh and leaving the stones
As a memorial of what happened here.
After only embers remain, the coals are taken into Your holy sanctuary
And mixed with my prayers of sweet and bitter spices.
I call out to You from the midst of the smoke and You pull me over the veil
And into Your presence, Your cloud communing with mine,
Where Me and We are reconciled one to another,
And we greet each other with a holy kiss.
© 2016, Sarah S. Walters