I have no temple.

Only a candle
and a small statue
of a wolf.

I make my temple
wherever we are.

I have no sisterhood
or brotherhood

and yet…

as I stare into the flame
I sense they are
behind me –
rows and rows
of monks and nuns.

Those who understand
the sanctity and solemnity
of this vigil these vows
although we have
different gods.

Alone and not alone
in the making of this bond
to one to whom I am
forever bound

my mind is a chant

a Moebius loop

and I see
rows and rows
of monks and nuns
before me.

*This poem depicts the first hour of my vigil on the night I made my lifelong dedication to Gwyn. I have committed to meditating on an hour for each year at the time of my vows and to sharing it in poetry.