“Did Ever Peace in Motion Come”
Did ever peace in motion come to mind while living still,
Or what’s an ego for? We do not cease; we know we die
But, what hopes are hung there in the clocks, the early cries
Of “Quickly!”or “Grant me time that I may kill,”
And whether there is joy in sunrise there beyond that hill
Or here behind this present place within the wall we occupy.
The only guarantee we have testifies
To purpose, patience that we have lived to see what fulfils
A destiny, no mere approbation, positive as this may be,
But willing prophesy and added acquiescence to the turning
Of the page, the further reading, the greater goal
To ascertain than to achieve. Then on beyond the poles
Whither to the north or south, to encompass greater than the seas,
Further than consumption; such limitless forests as are beyond all learning.
Posted in Age, Aging, Lyric Poetry, Poetry, Samsara, Sonnet
Tagged Age, Aging, Detachment, Emotion, End Times, Existence, Immortality, Lyric Poetry, Mortality, peace, Relationships, Sonnet, Tragic Flaw, Wisdom
Bahá’ís throughout the world commemorate this day as the First Day of the Festival of Riḍván, highest Holy Day in the Bahá’í Calendar, a day commemorating the Great Announcement made by Bahá’u’lláh, Prophet/Founder of the Bahá’í Faith on 21 April 1863, in the Garden known by the name of Riḍván [Paradise] in the city of Baghdád, Iraq, to the world that He was the long awaited Messenger of God for this Day foretold in the Holy Books of Hinduism, Judaism, Buddhism, Christianity, Zoroastrianism, Islám, and heralded by the appearance of The Báb in Shiráz, Iran, in 1844. In short, we commemorate the Announcement to the world of the Advent of the Promised One of all ages. The Festival of Riḍván lasts for a full twelve days with the First, Ninth, and Twelfth Day being the highest Holy Days of the Bahá’í Year.
“Sonnet In Honour of the First Day of Riḍván”
He calls the world to peace; the nations cry for war;
He calls the world toward the sun while the owls flee to shadows
In the night as far from one another as His Will allows.
Refractions in the gloom, they revel in the scores
Of symphonies, adagios, and choruses of universal pain,
The rites of self-annihilation, denial, and mutilation of the soul;
Their bodies, frigates of the aging war fleet grounded in the shoals.
And on this Day of all Days, He gathers refugees from the rain
To clothe the naked with the unity and simplicity of truth, roses
Of the Garden piled before His feet; the Great Announcement
Given first to those who knew His Voice, thereafter, the pronouncement
To the city of future pilgrimage, to Baghdád He discloses
His Identity; at last to all the world: The Second Trumpet’s come!
Lift up the veils, behold the Light! Leave the bats of loathing
To withdraw to their own chosen darknesses before the rising sun.
Posted in First Day of the Festival of Riḍván, Lyric Poetry, Poetry, Sonnet, The Festival of Riḍván
Tagged Baghdád, Bahá’í Calendar, Buddhism, Christianity, Denial, First Day of the Festival of Riḍván, Great Announcement, Hinduism, Holy Days of the Bahá'í Year, Islám, Judaism, Mutilation of the soul, peace, Second Trumpet, Self-annihilation, The Festival of Riḍván, Zoroastrianism
“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