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DIRECTIONAL MAIL





Perhaps the Arabs gold tooth picked up signals

From the Milky Way; all creatures receive

Directional mail.   The psychopomp is very busy.



So much flesh muffles the answers we receive; yet

We are guided by a reason far greater than our own;

The woman at the well felt Jesus’ transponder.



There is a mystery about the birth of Jesus; only a

Few were guided to the manger.  Those who came

Had no coupons but understood caves of the heart.



The old enemy follows close; his directional mail

Comes from our old vacated haunts where we left some

Clue of being there.  We never really leave these places.



So many cheeps come from the birds nest; the mother

Knows every one.  She studies every feather around

Their bills and knows the shrill of each gullet.



We take steno notes, write in Morse and cracked every

Code; however, the forwarding mail Jesus left to his

Father’s house is never delivered; where to direct the mail.