Bahá’ís throughout the world celebrate this day [beginning at sunset] as the Day of the Covenant, the Celebration of the Eternal Covenant between God and Mankind through His Manifestations and Prophets, eternal in the past, eternal in the present, eternal in the future:
“His Holiness Abraham, on Him be peace, made a covenant concerning His Holiness Moses and gave the glad-tidings of His coming. His Holiness Moses made a covenant concerning the Promised One, i.e. His Holiness Christ, and announced the good news of His Manifestation to the world. His Holiness Christ made a covenant concerning the Paraclete and gave the tidings of His coming. His Holiness the Prophet Muhammad made a covenant concerning His Holiness the Báb and the Báb was the One promised by Muhammad, for Muhammad gave the tidings of His coming. The Báb made a Covenant concerning the Blessed Beauty of Bahá’u'lláh and gave the glad-tidings of His coming for the Blessed Beauty was the One promised by His Holiness the Báb. Bahá’u'lláh made a covenant concerning a promised One who will become manifest after one thousand or thousands of years. –`Abdu’l-Bahá, Bahá’í World Faith
“As the Sea”
As the sea swells, so the Covenant remains, promises fulfilled.
Through Abraham the Friend of God, and Moses, Giver
Of The Law; fruited and confirmed in Jesus Son of Mary given
In His Person more–the Love of God–and through His Will,
Submission under God in Hijáz through Muhammad, Seal of Prophets;
From the East, Lord Krishna of The Three, The holiness of Buddha in Purity;
The Fires of Zoroaster from the mountain; security from casuistry
Within the Witness of The Báb, and Justice in Bahá’u'lláh
`gainst the nursery rhymes of sophists
And the worship of Creation over He who did create
The whole with but a single Word, “Be!” Hosts exclaim and expiate
Their cavils at the Word through numbers, and the terror of the tribes.
Their synergies against the tide of history, bow the knee to what they rape,
And call it truth. By God! The earth is weary of their weight.
The Word alone remains; the Covenant alone withstands this dreary freight.
Posted in Bahá’í, Covenant, End Times, Hope, Lyric Poetry, Philosophy, Poem, Poetry, Samsara, Sonnet
Tagged Bahá’í, Covenant, Existence, Imagery, Imagism, Immortality, Infinity, Lyric Poetry, Poem, poetry, Samsara, Sonnet
“These Single Seconds”
These single seconds, presentiments of all
And nothing in eternity, everything in being
So alive; so much ado for yet another death in Venice, the seam
Of what is past as in a single passion’s pall
So sharpened in the moment that it’s cut
Is never noted until the point of infection. Minutes and the hour
Record a simple causal pause, time enough to harvest flowers
That will surely wilt so thoughtlessly. But
In the common flush of extremities, the blush, the rush, the flow,
This now is always yesterday’s dream, the stuff of self-deception,
Always what has happened just before, some weak inflection
Of realities and truth but crudely reckoned, a seed but newly sown
That only time can nourish. I’ve lived through nearly seven times ten in years
Through veils of unmitigated grace and holiness amassed in arrears,
Still, it is within another winter’s votary thought at last;
I know I will not be with you here beyond the death
Of these same embers in the hearth, this house arrest
Of days and nights so beauty-worn. I am the fast
In winter’s moonlight bringing closer all who see
So little light save in one another; days begun and then recessed
Before their time. And so it is with graduated rest
From daily obligations, time enough to dream, at least to seem
To one another safe enough for one brief season, a familiar in the close
Encounter with so little interest but in the present evening’s run
To fetch a cow within, a log from out back, to secure the barn.
Barely born, the moon grows reticent as the rising sun discloses
Evening weeds and as we build the fires and take the steam,
The fire’s warmth is strong and so is love…as so it seems.
Posted in Age, Aging, Death, Detachment, Double Sonnet, Emotion, Existence, Fidelity, Hope, Idolatry, Illusion, Imagery, Imagination, Imagism, Immortality, Love, Lyric Poetry, Mortality, Pain, Patience, Philosophy, Poem, Poetry, Reality, Samsara, Sonnet, Sonnets
Tagged Age, Aging, Death, Death in Venice, Delusion, Double Sonnet, Emotion, Existence, Fidelity, Illusion, Imagism, Immortality, Love, Lyric Poetry, Mortality, Pain, Poem, poetry, Relationships, Samsara, Sonnet, Sonnets
“That We Fall Is Natural”
That we fall is natural; that we rise, elephantine.
The elemental flow of oceans cannot be
A thing so scripted in the stones nor greater than it seems,
But ever-striving, ever-writhing, natural peaks declining,
Irreconcilable in their conniving, twice and more desired falling
In or toward Themselves, the Mothers of all Waters, yes. Rivers
Die and are reborn at once–revivals in their streams and noted divers
Books, catalogued as tributaries and watersheds–calling
And recalling from a moonstruck swollen pinnacle
even to the least and last most holy drop.
Confucius* said it long ago that greatest glories
Come not so much in never falling, but in histories
Of revision, sublimes in tectonic prodigies at the mountaintop.
Little wonder save to mortals what the matter is;
energy is the bright selective gleam
Of noble souls who
like the stream, the river, the brook,
must at last rejoin the sea.
*Confucius B.C. 551-479
Posted in Age, Change, Death, Evolution, Existence, Fate, Hope, Imagery, Imagism, Immortality, Lyric Poetry, Nature, New Year, Ocean, Poem, Poetry, Providence, Samsara, Sea, Sonnet, Sonnets
Tagged Age, Ecology, End Times, Evolution, Existence, Imagism, Immortality, Lyric Poetry, Mortality, Nature, Poem, poetry, Samsara, Sonnet, Sonnets
“The Peace, That Is”
The peace that is, some sense of fortune, love
Of life, that is, the promises that dwell in hearts
Whose beacon is the present. Darts
And shafts, phantoms’ arrows, doves
Of superstition and the flights of eagles not yet dreamed
Become the weights of weariness, embellished chains of thoughts,
Of past and distant memories; all these are. The nought’s
Outweigh the should’s, the clarion chorus of what seems
Will drown the melody of what is as patently, the past
Is nothing more than magnification of future’s cold deception.
Certainly, who’s to know but that at conception
What was sure to be could never really last
And what endures is petrified in quicksands of false alarms
Because we dwell so near the morning’s light and yet so far.
Posted in Conception, Future, Hope, Immortality, Past, Poetry, Present
Tagged Existence, Lyric Poetry, Samsara, Sonnet, Sonnets
“A Simple Chemistry”
A simple chemistry, the day, the night,
And what of course is never meant to be;
But still the hope is there, the simile
That never quite transforms a noun nor quite
Contents itself in action, so never mind a verb.
But, then what a change of heart is there.
Reaction taut, willingness, a kind of gas, an air
Of great and greater expectations that serves
No more than casual attention yet is so deadly. No, of course,
It cannot come to this. But, yes, eventually it does.
And with the cat’s release, it must.
The thing is there to see, to feel, to taste. The horse
Before the cart, perhaps, but nonetheless, a paradigm of waste,
And with each fine turning of the wheel the love of wanton haste.
A maudlin isolation seeds contempt and leads the mind
To rites and righteous thinking that was not there before. He’ll defer
To what he thinks is plainly there on the plate; they infer
From this that he’s content, but caution! Not all nouns decline
The same, nor are their heirs in action conjugated
In the subjunctive: something other brings the two together
And there’s no part of speech that weathers
Scrutiny in the spirit. Sounds and syllables modulated,
Dress themselves in exceptions ruthless syntax will abhor.
There is no saving grace in this, no workable alternative
To perfect tenses forcing all to deal with God and His eternity:
Dallaire declared that he believed because he’d seen the Whore *;
And, after sleep and shadows, I believe the Orb will rise
Because I’ve seen the sun ignored in midnight lapis leasure skies.
*Lieutenant-General Roméo Antonius Dallaire [June 25, 1946-- ]
Posted in Action, Affirmation, Appearances, Double Sonnet, God, Grammar, Hope, Midnight, Poetry
Tagged 1946-- ], Double Sonnet, Lieutenant-General Romeo Antonius Dallaire [June 25, Lyric Poetry, Noun, Sonnet, Subjunctive tense, Verb
Concessions, yes; hairy clouds and rains can comfort hearts
Within the sheltered warmth
and welcome of my own bed.
I imagine angels on the pillow
where I lay my head,
And when I pray I am at Temple,
nightly sanctuary of the arts
Within my head as when I read or hear
within tales and fables
Running rampant through that vapid place
where hues and sounds abound
But are not seen or heard; choirs in the void,
not a hint of laughter round
The workman’s bench, the manicured down
of gardens or at the table.
Yes! One day’s maintains bear no obvious hint of perseverance,
No consolation for the years,
no respite from the constant consequence
Of experience in real fears. Vision simply comes to me,
Ready made. Who I am to speak?
With whom am I that am alone? I ignore
The whole vicarious mirage as I lay here but for a superficial middling time,
And here with me is what never is
and nothing more.
Posted in Antithesis, Creativity, Dreams, Experience, Hope, Imagery, Imagination, Imagism, Poetry, Respite, Samsara, Sleep
Tagged Lyric Poetry, Sonnets
They arrive, the legions, thorns, as seconds torn
From any calendar and common to us all;
We welcome what must come–we have no choice–the plaintive call
Of late night amber moments need not be recalled; we warn
Ourselves and just perhaps we navigate the rapids bruised and numbed within
The cusps while all celestial orbits’
dispassionate marks reclaimed and rearranged
And burnt across all foreheads the latest number,
a simple paradigm–today exchanged
For yesterday–within a fading image of outrageous dreams,
some few last wishes in thin
Disguise. Nonetheless, what’s as clear as what is not’s the fact.
The purview, vision’s purposes recalled, and all collective memories attract.
The purgatives to what comes must be and what must come. Tact
And all discretion set aside, to barter solace and eternity for a bowl of soup lacks
Substance: in exchange for knowledge, wisdom;
Esau’s hungers burn within the leaves
Of Scripture as all prophesies are turned to satisfaction in the marriage,
the final crowning of action with belief.
Posted in Action, Belief, Change, Cycles, Detachment, Dreams, Esau, Eternity, Hope, Lust, Materialism, Mortality, Poetry, Providence, Samsara, Spirituality, Zeitgeist
Tagged Cusp, Lyric Poetry, Sonnets
Anxiety brings to mind a smile, a certainty
That what is good is merely stalled
On sidetracks to avoid collision, the call
To order from the ethereal unseen; eternity
Does not disappear with so little provocation
As a disagreement, a suspicion of a difference
Of opinion, or what appears to be interference
Even to the very gates of defeat. The invocation,
“Thus far and no father!” is but a station’s stop
And not a terminal carved in destiny.
Nor is it understood to be a bending of the knee
To anything short of order in the chaos and the melée. The shop
Is closed when systems fail and nothing lasts forever:
Where there is place and time, re-creation pulls the levers.
“Be Careful Here”
Be careful here, my friend, truth can burn
But cannot bring you down; a given is a given:
A man is fooled within himself; he will be driven
In and of his own delight, impelled at every turn
Toward the Qiblah of his creation as the sun
Will rise from his East, recline and resign
Toward his West. As the rains decline
From highest peaks seduced to run
To the ocean, so, too, creation brooks no barrier,
No alteration in its prodigies. Light ordained
Is not the lamp, nor within a wick retained,
But consecrated within the oil; its properties tarry.
Be assured. Energies within the lamp will reign;
Where comes a spark, no light can be restrained.
Is nothing more
Than the willing
Of the natural inevitability of change.
If change is possible,
There is hope
And since change is ubiquitous,
It precludes fear or humiliation
Or thoughts of annihilation
Stemming from the predicament
Of being an eternal being
In a mortal, material existence.
It is but one reason
Why the seeing eye
That if every believing soul
Were reduced by
To a single soul,
That soul will eternally proclaim,
“I have overcome the world!”