Storm in My Shrine

There's a storm in my shrine, as I sip my wine,

Pondering life's pleasures, tinctures refined,
As howling winds roar, mural lions align,
I find myself lost, in ways impossible to find!

There's a storm in my shrine, for I am blind,

To visions of beauty, faint shadows of mine,
Swirling snow, pelting rain in front and behind,
Deafening screams, from a slaughter of swine!

There's a storm in my shrine, for I see no sign,

Of supreme intervention, or miraculous design,
Of spiritual connections, things intertwined,
Beyond mortal figures, rare and divine!

There's a storm in my shrine, as I unwind,

From a life of servitude, orders assigned,
Free for a time from mortar and grind,
To pacify monsters of the human kind!

By Arturo Tora (12 April 2011)