He picked up his pipe

He picked up his pipe
And filled it not with tobacco
But with the old reality that
An eye for an eye we are God’s equal
With no blame attached and
No answers expected
Created in God’s image
There has to be recovery
On one very beautiful night
My friend lit his pipe
Took his first draw and
Then spoke of ten thousand
Stories that he knew by heart
Fantastic stories stories that became friends
Remembering them now
I can’t remember if ever
I saw smoke coming from his pipe
When realities are smoked
What do they look like
And with God’s image in mind
If he tapped out his pipe
Unpaid philosophers that we are
He said nothing

Ronald Rae

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