Mary points the way.
Knock on the door once close
Enfolded with the chain of doom
Only the right key can open.

The luxury of time ain’t here to play
Drugged by the pills on a daily dose
Lie in the bed of a white room
where justice is served often.

Word of mouth is following the ray.
Knees bend begging for a loose
Tears fall asking for a wonder to loom
Summoning the Saints for the plea to co-pen.

Where do miracles hide?
Nothingness suddenly appears to preside.
Are miracles a holy grail that is hard to find?
Or was it a product of an imaginative mind?