Sermon on the deaf wind of Jordan

 From food inside our stomachs
Not keeping our appetite satisfied much
hands touch chest to be close to the heart boiling
Searching for purity when our emotions seem to be soiled

Hands are sent out 
On a mission to gesticulate
the essence of existence through limbs
through thought, through veins till finger tips
On mounds and dunes and readable lips

Oppressors seek compliance, servitude they want us to give up
Both like liquids being poured out of us as if we were cups
Not a drop to the front seat of prescribed importance
After the overdressed artistic conmen preachers
can you still see the eternal protoganist relieving our nightmares
Wet cloth on our brow toward the hours of need fright and fear

Gestures that grow into miracles
even inside our mind´s obsessions