Category Archives: Fools

Bahá’ís throughout the world gather this evening and tomorrow within the First Day of the Month of `Asmá [Names]

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.”

“Lady P: Yes, Well…”

In reply to a beautiful note sent to me…


“Lady P: Yes, Well…”

Yes, well, after all, at least for you and me
There’s everything and all and even more through truth and honesty;
We grope at times, yes! but never quite make or break the call
From perfection to perfection gaining ground then risking all.
But, there’s the rub, the same for everyone who breathes
To live and not the other way around: as boiling lava seethes
So, too, the will from time to time relieves itself, erupts and then must cool
To build tomorrow’s fortress in the season’s rut. Know  that fools
And angels build as well on sand as on a known caldera
Seeing safety’s but a syllable, a symbol, chimera
Of the mind or possibly a maxim born of boredom
And nothing more than light conversation over hay or sorghum
With a denizen of Hell, itself, who’s merely waiting for a train,
And you with no umbrella to protect you from the evening rain.