The Guest

I do not believe, know

by temperament I have

come under the influence

of the praying mantis

but rather through necessity

of which I had no need of until

the mantis was there beside me

prayerfully, silently saying Om

or Amen or Gloria over and over

again in that Gregorian chant

chamber of air that seemed

to have enclosed me unaware.

I was in silent meditation listening

to the mantis, being allowed

to overhear what patience

and deliberation probing the 

universe for the right choice

in the moment felt like.

I didn't like  it much

but I was drawn to it,

the way it promised 

something, someone was this way,

my way coming.

                       I felt a rhythm

not of a heartbeat but something older,

so old it felt new

                           and the only thing

I could think was, "This is what the divine

dances to."

                 I sat until dusk turned

nearly night.

                  In the morning it was gone.

-Byron Hoot