Instead of scenic views and observations,
we watch reels.
Instead of conversations:
“Look at this.”
I don’t have running/
water, but with Internet,/
what more do I need?
Half a continent/
divided, yet by love and/
water connected.
Seeking strength,
I went to my Temple.
Upstairs,
the signal
was never strong.
But today,
when I needed it most,
it was five bars,
loud and clear.
I sat,
by myself,
in my corridor,
(having met Santa twice already),
and connected
more than I have in awhile.
Soon,
after being surrounded
by art
(Russian Impressionism),
tuba,
Utah Lake mud tile,
and children,
I will go find milk
and a cookie.
This is worship.
This is connection.
This is receiving
the signal
at the Temple.
Unless you’ve connected/
and are sitting side-by-side,/
silence means nothing.