Bread and wine

You worship the stone aside from me.
You worship the word aside from me.
You worship the bread, the wine
and the vine, all aside from me.
Thoughts greater than I exist, and they do so in spite of me,
In sight of me and my ineptitude, my inability.
In sight of me greatness abounds,
And a chorus, or a requiem resounds.
I am not what you think, not what you wish.
I am not the food, the course, nor the dish.
Bigger things have been, larger things have eluded most,
But those that choose, those that wish, those that host,
All find in me a sense of contentment.
They find no sense of resentment,
Because to worship the stone, the host, the most,
Is no substitute for worship of the spirit within.