Gesture prayer extempore

The fog horn would sound even during the clear,
and long in the night a train whistle lingered...
Land lost between Boston and New York along the dark coast.
There is still time to be lost in it, to hear
Those Seekers-of-truth, who give up the faith, or go through
a long “Dark Night of The Soul”.

Don’t stray too far. There is a bog and you will disappear.
I was startled by the somnambulant. Who’s there?
Garbled confused conversation scare.
So I made the sign of the cross at the door as I left for the day;
Angel to stand guard, I will not raise an eyebrow or look away.
Gesture prayer extempore.