Bahá’ís throughout the world gather this evening and tomorrow within the First Day of the Month of `Asmá [Names]
“Double Sonnet in Honour of the Feast of ‘Asmá [Names]“
Greatness, the gulf of differences between
Recipients of names and the manifestation of the same
In full blown vain imagining; objective oversight’s the flame,
At least the spark any given second. A constant stream,
The crown of transformation comes in time to weave
A gravity within the press of what is never really seen.
Within a name resides a hidden thread that only seems
The confirmation both of life and being—in bas relief
Or so The Buddha warned—that holds a lethal trust. Between the name
And its receipt abide the seeds of pernicious doubt and protestation,
Manifest but without form, no timely attestation,
More an emanation than anything in revelation. In every atom reigns
The distance and sweet velocities of change. The many tools
Of blind belief in Adam’s gift seek rest somewhere within reach of fools
Embracing blasphemy in luminous dichotomies, dilemma’s
Punctuation marks’ delusions born of natural sedition. Litanies–
The beads of faith and understanding–are crystals of epiphany
Drawn from rich deposits deep within the endgames of enigma
And paradox serving providence and the farce of perpetual plebiscites;
Their greatest honour, servitude in service
To unnatural homeostasis between justice and integrity, yearning
And the One for Whom all yearning stems to transcendental heights
Born in mortal time of He from Whom all virtues flow.
And when denial and prayer are in arrears,
When needs and resignation outweigh a sum of means;
Words gone bankrupt erupt and deeds are stripped of fat and lean,
As hopelessness finds redemption in an average skein of years,
With all that overwhelms the truth at sunrise
In redemption in the simple phrase, “I’m still alive!”
Posted in 'Asmá, Adam, Atom, Blasphemy, Buddha, Buddhism, Change, Confirmation, Denial, Dichotomy, dilemma, Doubt, Endgame, Enigma, Epiphany, Fools, Gravity, Greatness, Homeostasis, I'm still alive!, Integrity, Justice, Litany, Means, Names, Paradox, Plebicite, Prayer, Protestation, Providence, Redemption, Revelation, Sedition, Service, Skein, Sunrise, Time, Tools, Transformation, Virtues, Yearning
Tagged Punctuation marks
…a revision of the poem…
Swept aside, all moments and celestial mementos collide
And waste no never-mind on credence and retention
In the wake of greater cosmic rinds and supine celestial reflection.
Mortality by definition lies; not so through what histories imply
But in the daily interaction of missives from the Goal
And penultimate ilunga * of the Source or
Sanctions of interaction in the triumphant triad of the coarsest
Ores of time, of space, and all that matters. Time, the cosmic linen folds
Of space and active order; space, the theatre of experience at the heart
Of the observer; matter, but an audience, a phenomena in passive
Active shadows of Creation and its nemesis. Simplicity is massive,
Complexity but a word; a question’s languages are art
And science while the answers form the pathos and the abstract.
What is more pathetic than to be and yet be nothing in the act?
Simplicity in the classic form requires
The prefects of a perfect vacuum
Combined in such a way as compliments the acumen
Of a strident meme, the jealous zeitgeist, tests that to the whole inspire
An urgent need to pause, to linger over bodies no longer really there,
A little more than a half a generation’s substance in a given time.
So granted this, so beautifully and tragically resigned,
Aloud comes the elegies of episodes to “Move along!”or “Retire!”
With such a cry inscribed, there was and always is
A here and there in rapid profit worshipped, fierce
As gallstones of desperation: “This, our chosen age, rehearsed
Upon a cross of memories little more than lyrics of an ancient tryst!”
And, equally, the many crowned and catalogued, remain aloof
Through symmetries of perfection in a sacred dynasty of embroidered truth.
*The word is ilunga, from the Bantu language of Tshiluba, and means a person ready to forgive any abuse for the first time, to tolerate it a second time, but never a third time.
When there is this, that is.
With the arising of this, that arises.
When this is not, neither is that.
With the cessation of this, that ceases.
His Holiness The Buddha
Posted in Affirmation, Age, Aging, Antithesis, Arts, Buddhism, Change, Classic, Cycles, Double Sonnet, Elegies, End Times, Ends, Generations, Hubris, Hustlers, Hyperbole, Idolatry, Matrix, Meme, Memory, Negation, Nostalgia, Numinosum, Pathos, Poetry, Posterity, Pragmatism, Pyrrhic Victory, Relativity, Retirement, Samsara, Sciences, Seasons, State of Being, Stations, Synthesis, Thesis, To be or not to be, Tragic Flaw, Tshiluba, Yearning, Zeitgeist
Tagged Double Sonnet, Lyric Poetry, Sonnet, Sonnets
“So Easy to Desire”
So easy to desire the miracle. But think
On this. Where’s the catch, the marvellous demands
That come to mind; what promises can stand?
What tests in kind the price in days to come? She drinks
To fortune, progress, to better days, her Sadducees of success
Attracting millennia condensed within her brief bowl of seams
And hedges, these hems round all for whom and for what she dreams
Is her eternity. Something’s asked and something’s earned; divine redress
Requires questions in the hours to come, the latent moments of distress
And wonder, certain encounters in the looming longest night of nothingness,
Her nemesis in paeans, time and endless waiting. Rhymes are stress
Enough, these obstacles and all that stands while she lies flat; a wilderness,
The costs of hasty elevation of the Host trumps the urge to cheat the system:
Yet in living moments as they are is peace, and patience in itself is wisdom.
Posted in Age, Aging, Bahá’í, Buddhism, Emotion, Existence, Imagery, Imagism, Lyric Poetry, Patience, Philosophy, Poem, Poetry, Reality, Religion, Sonnet
Tagged Age, Aging, Bahá’í, Emotion, Imagism, Lyric Poetry, Pain, Patience, Poem, poetry, Sonnet