A shrine in my heart
and head lies in Central Park,
where the paths lead to man-
built reminders of god, of pray-
er, of leisure, of peace.
I pray to the spirit of myself
to this temple, on a medium-
sized ledge pink gorgeous vines
ripple down it toward the pond
at the bottom, and my mother earth
who gives me strength while
I face time out of spirit and into
the world. But this world can't
help me.

It's a gazebo, white with a trape-
zoid roof on a ledge with a pond
beneath it. Cry out for peace because
all this world is is struggle. Let us
be fish in this pond.