First you don’t see
this light within,
you intend it.
You make word flesh.
_______RS
[ Image : I came upon this image within the past week or so, but cannot for gold, frankincense or myrrh recall where. If you’ve seen the source kindly tell me so I can acknowledge the creator. ] (link)
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A strange and blessed thing: that we can assess our own existence! Therein lies the portal to divinity, the exposing of Darwin’s mistake. For all Consequential lies are but half-truths, concealed.
have you noticed it too
yet?
How did Atlantis’ Fall, and the prospects of a strange new future civilization to the east, manifest to ones awake near the end?
We don’t remember conversations in full tableau. Instead, glistening moments, a bluesy vignette, a mere phrase filled with undisclosed meaning. They shine like supernovae across our lifespan, persistently prodding us to mine their significance with each new contemplation. Gifts which keep on giving.
when i was little, even tiny
then my loving was my looking
and when i knew something new
that was something like love too
but with time I saw that “I” saw
that I was he who sees his seeing
so now my love’s become hard work
that I am grateful for its being
_______RS
[ Image : I somehow have misplaced which corner of the web where I located this wonderful watercolor… if you recognize it, please help me with it’s attribution, and I’ll ‘like’ you in perpetuity. ]
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A timeless dialogue between love and the loved, or is it spirit and soul, or woman and man, or angelic and human, or forgiver and transgressor, or wise Sophia and turbulent Psyche…
In a short piece titled “God is Dead; So What?”, Richard Ostrofsky, an acquaintance of mine, lays out his overview of the present culture wars from a perhaps characteristically atheist perspective. He cites Matthew Arnold’s poignant 1867 poem ‘Dover Beach’, which I’d not thought about for over 30 years, and happily revisited. But we subtly disagree about the meaning of the cultural impasse this poem intuits, and about exactly what Arnold sensed over 150 years ago, gazing one night out to sea.
||skirmishes|| ||with|| ||reality|| 