Catholic notions and rosemary sprigs

grazed and graced the head with a noble stress,
but only after the left right boot drags,
forgotten by a sinister progress:
Pungent clouds had ripped through the atmosphere,
and the holy boots were soaked in the mud,
like diasporic spirits hidden in fear
and faith that a New Time would cloak the cloud:
Different moments in the wake of mind
whose eternal endeavor is a sound
mind and a loud dream of passion defined
as peace and purity, as the Greyhound:
The terrestrial nose, dragging in chase
of the right one–bright Sun–who will clear space.
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