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
“Allow a Little Contemplation”
Allow a little contemplation; mind the rising curse;
Give some room to commitments—
If a little late—distillations of a sundry ointment
Fit for open wounds. For now, we’re just a little worse
For wear and lacking poise, but in this happenstance,
What rests in all this noise? Tomorrow
When the mildew from sorrows
In the news has dried and circumstance
Permits, I’ll take the sun and leave the news,
The erudite reviews, the blues in mood and pulchritude,
Indictments of the way we rush to witness multitudes
In soundbites consume themselves in lewd
Proposals that what is alien is natural to the native;
What’s not been touched, somehow evocative and obliquely dative.
…photograph by Michelle Duerden…
Posted in Aging, Lyric Poetry, Poetry, Samsara, Sonnet
Tagged Aging, Emotion, End Times, Existence, Immortality, Lyric Poetry, Mortality, News Media, Samsara, Sonnet, Strife, Tragic Flaw, Wisdom
“Solace in Believing”
Solace in believing, rectitude in serving—
The balance in the cleavage there between collectives
And the single path—and in the brief electives
Shared by all a joy in moments of selective yearning,
Benchmarks of the solar year, at Thanksgiving and Christmastime,
Restraint and a slight refrain from something heard within the people.
Still the Philistines abound, their doorways pocked with pumpkins, evil
Omens spelling out the news that feasting, repetitious cognates that rhyme
With what it is is what the people want but cannot earn. And why, one asks,
Do the nations so furiously rage together, age-old riddles, questions
Put to test, the yeasts of what it is that hearts desire? Sage suggestions
In the council chambers, gatherings to mark traumatic tasks
Of timely need and potent joint considerations of the able:
All we ask is peace, and simple magnanimity at the table?
…photograph below of Dutch memorial to Holocause victims from Holland…
Posted in Lyric Poetry, Poetry, Samsara, Sonnet
Tagged Christmas, End Times, Existence, Lyric Poetry, peace, rectitude, Samsara, Security Council, Solace, Strife, Thanksgiving, United Nations, Wisdom
“Within the Coup de Grâce“
Within the coup de grâce, the question’s simply put:
Devour paradise in this brief breeze, or live within
The pale that penetrates a lifetime. The phrases, phases in the winds
Of light bereft becoming fires jilted, plundered, these the soot
And garnish of vanities enjoyed as spice, meant to jolt,
To jumpstart, to reinforce the bottom line—shortcuts
Of weathered notions fully fleshed, fruition’s gains—neat, but
Missing something in the translation, these but transition, reverend folks,
The longer, sweeter tide of thought stretched taut within me;
These see no sweet nothings, no grace notes breathing in or out
Of line with those who practice only basic chords who love to jump and shout.
Rest, and put it to the test. Know this, attend! Simplistic as it seems
The truth will out soon enough. Within the endgame happiness
Enjoys dominion in this world, it’s true, but joy ascends the Next.
Posted in Age, Aging, Imagery, Lyric Poetry, Poem, Poetry, Samsara, Sonnet, Sonnets
Tagged Age, Aging, Detachment, Emotion, Existence, Immortality, Lyric Poetry, Mortality, poetry, Samsara, Sonnet, Tragic Flaw
One word for the road, two or three but ultimately
In time and through use clusters darker weights and gifts
The bitter sweet remuneration, wings of mischief
In the innocent, prodigious pride in the stately
Damned who for the moment occupy stations of the lately
Crowned and periodically remain as arbitrators in the drift
Of noxious clouds and sand dunes respeaking storms and monoliths
And what preöccupies the waking hours, yeast of conversations sedately
Phrased but to what are, after all, mere stones; that light-is my-lead
And not the shadow-that-I-cast is my inspiration.
Higher then, comes what is cast off by the mirror
That is my soul, and nothing of the shadows or
Commotion caused but purely the journey,
the majesty of earthly seed
From dust to dust, my final aspiration.
Posted in Aging, Imagery, Lyric Poetry, Poem, Poetry, Samsara, Sonnet, Sonnets
Tagged Age, Aging, Immortality, Lyric Poetry, Mortality, poetry, Samsara, Sonnet
Thursday nights we cull the whole damn lot or leave ‘em be;
What remains of this week’s haul exhausts itself. At least
It tends to hit the sack a little early and as for me, it’s just past
Ten o’clock, when all that is is but doesn’t matter anymore. We’ll see
Some snags and hooks in all these hours till the magic hour tomorrow afternoon,
When what-the-hell is sent to hell, returned to sender as the cheque comes in.
For all that, sin and scales will tip so slightly, gratefully toward the weekend.
Thursday’s ripe for paying bills and calls for loose ends that soon
Stretch too far into the deficit of the night for comfort or written off without
A breath however token, howsoever small, a just little social elbow grease
To ease the list of “Things to Do” that clear, released,
A hill of sums to creditors and friends who bid to pout
Because they swear you haven’t been the same of late and called;
This Thursday’s what it is to reconnoitre weekly chits so easily dissolved.
Posted in Imagery, Lyric Poetry, Poetry, Sonnet
Tagged Detachment, Existence, Imagery, Lyric Poetry, Patience, poetry, Samsara, Sonnet
Wednesday’s right on time; momentum tends toward cheers
In arteries and fuel for the soul. Experience; I embrace the fray
And thank God That Wednesday’s just another day
That somehow, back in the saddle, here am I. Nothing’s left to fear.
Perhaps it’s always in me or could it be that what comes round at last
Has been the simple sound of minds surrounding me. It’s true,
Of course, the buck stops here and only here, and with so much to do
And weekly meters running, little’s left of fevers from the past.
There are choices. Three hundred and sixty-six degrees against prevailing winds,
Some three hundred and sixty-five and one more to soar
To where it was that I began while I lack nothing, need no more
Than minimal light to navigate the same old rocks, the odds and ends
That move somehow or have they always moved before?
…pebbles née boulders roll from a Tuesday’s gloom
But not to worry; clues attend patiently for Wednesday’s mighty noon.
Posted in Imagery, Lyric Poetry, Poem, Poetry, Sonnet
Tagged Endurance, Existence, Imagery, Lyric Poetry, poetry, Samsara, Sonnet, Wisdom
“That I Saw This Latter Night”
That I saw this latter night
Blanketed in queues and styles when I was young; I thought
I’d die—nor wise nor foolish, wished I could—but I was caught
In swollen updrafts, yesterdays where nettled, wind-torn birds took flight.
Surprised, emerging sunlit days led me to believe I’d be
Raised above the clouds to see the many haloed patterns in yellowed suns,
Bluest moons, lightning sapphired mists in cumuli, the staggered sums
Of every dust-born shooting star that ever paused to think on me.
In prolixity, beginnings, upraised, I bore the finite misappointed days,
Integers of nights, withstood the stench of dawns and dusks, and more rains
Than I could reckon, read, or hear in all that thunder. I drained
my open wounds, applied the ointment to ease the growing pains
Those many mighty nights enclosed, dreaming of more than I could pay
For, blessings both from suns and moons—the very breath I drew—to cast
The bones of furtive futures through to ever-present pasts.
Posted in Imagery, Lyric Poetry, Poem, Poetry, Samsara, Sonnet
Tagged Age, Aging, End Times, Existence, Imagery, Lyric Poetry, Mortality, poetry, Samsara, Sonnet, Tragic Flaw
“A Sometime Stain”
A sometime stain; the birthmark of a single name–
Goaded, compromised, spited by the eyes–the microscopic page,
The age and bridge from what is meant to what it is. Age
The pontus maximus is potent but security and confidence are gained
In links throughout a sometime golden chain; the flame
Within the acorn, the seedling; twilights tremble at the larva’s rage
Beneath the unsuspecting fallow field where stalks the future stage
Above in comely spatial innocence and holy abstinence. The same
Reveals the relatives, within the cosmic heart; the absolute
That stations there strays not an aeon’s breadth from bliss—
illusion’s dispensation’s bourn—in what is seen, by whom
and where it lives, and from the gifted earthly womb
emerge the vectors in strengths of resolutes
while covenants among the dead above are born and die
within a single kiss.
Posted in Age, Aging, Imagery, Imagism, Lyric Poetry, Poem, Poetry, Samsara, Sonnet, Sonnets
Tagged Age, Aging, End Times, Imagery, Imagism, Immortality, Love, Lyric Poetry, Mortality, poetry, Relationships, Samsara, Sonnet, Sonnets, spirituality
Conspiracy there is to think; it rains again today.
Summer’s here and’s gone and here and disappeared once again.
Nothing settles in for long, and commitments dissipate.
And who, then, doubts there’s been a change?
Dollars fluctuate and markets soar and no one’s sane
Enough to shed the price of gold; and in the pack―Queen of Spades
Or Jack of Diamonds―are priceless pawns and easy gain
And loss to fools with pedigrees to match the season’s rain.
Fire’s in the West; flood’s, the East; and as for the chatelaine,
The fevers never cease in the station of the gravy train.
And who, then, doubts there’s been a change?
Posted in Conspiracy, Imagery, Imagism, Lyric Poetry, Poem, Poetry, Roundel, Samsara
Tagged Conspiracy, Delusion, Ecology, Economics, End Times, Illusion, Imagery, Lyric Poetry, News Media, Roundel, Samsara, Strife