Worship Poem by Joseph D E Phillips

The smoke of my pipe rises
as sacred incense in the temple of god
as sacrifices in the ancient temple,
it rises to the nostrils of god.

Smoke dances with a sweet aroma
with prayers of thanksgiving and happiness
with grateful and holy kisses,
it rises to the nostrils of god.

My body too shall lay to rest,
cremate into an ashy smoke,
take happily unto wind and sea,
and rise to the nostrils of god.