_I could’ve sworn I wrote a bit about a dove feasting upon the corpse of a wolf, but I suppose I only dreamed I did. _ The dove having slain every crow in the land clad in clamor and keepsake the night sky commands dressed in ravenly black and with ravenous tact circles moon and the stars round to hell and makes laps and now laughs at the crows bow and laud him as lord and he calls all he’s known spreads his dark wings and soars in a guise of the spoils; the garb of his foes here the dove doth so toil in the flesh of his crows

Storm now mine heart, O Breath that spun the stars, Besiege mine soul, Lord, breach its iron bars; Strike down the pride that stones mine inner gate, And rend mine will, that I may see Thee straight The grave stood armed, yet could not hold Thy light, Thy grace, Thy form of love shining with might, Hell clutched the keys, till Thou didst tear the night, And Thou set free each one who'd give their life Leaveth not one stone then upon another but scatter all mine emptied ways asunder lest I be still grasping mine own vainity in place of mine reaching for Thou only

Everyone lauds David, rightly so, for felling Goliath with one fateful stone and point to his faith, and say _‘See? We’ll slay giants!’ —— _they_ _ _ _are_ _quite right, but I’ve noticed another thing, gleaned - a token, please try it: for my faith is a giant, a towering man and my doubt was a sheppard, smoothed stone in its hand and but just for a moment I thought I was well and then soon thereafter I, Goliath, had fell

I remember pleading wishing to see love, too young to phrase what the word was, but that love extends beyond mere language, it was tears and bloodied lips bruised eyes, balled fists, a broken little boy putting up a perfect boxer’s guard, hands raised _Why? Why? Why!? _ _ _ _ Doesn’t anyone love me? _ __ __ How I would’ve held him close, so not even hell should touch him, “All hands are thorns, but God’s hands are flowers.” If I’m careful enough, maybe I can hold you. If I get jabbed, it’s fine, I’m used to it.

Leave it to us to pick at the bits we find needful but what use have we for angels if we worry not of demons? What if, as it were, a man is always pursued by these horrible forces, an army of things clad in gleaming red terror hungry, no, famished for truth and joy, love and every pure thing? Then we might think different whence a guardian of those virtues raises shield bright as day, absorbing and shattering that foul blade of despair, seeing then that there is war over us, we may conclude we are desired, and if desired, cherished, if cherished, loved if loved, then _why_?

Hath madeth me to eat of the fruit, sayeth mine father, Adam, and so that the veil was made that day, before the temple was, It Was the severing of man and God then, clothed in first death, Adam marched the blood of his blood through the barrenness of Elsewhere, our place—— yet not our home And I said, “The woman that Thou gaveth unto me, she hath given me that fruit, the one which Thou had spoken, ‘Taketh, and eat, for this is mine body broken for thou,’ and so I did eat, and I did drink of the blood Thy daughter fetched from Thy side, trembling I didst know Thou art _LORD_ __ __ At once, then, whence Thy were upon mine lips, I didst knoweth mine shame ‘twas taken from me, at once then I kneweth Thy heart shone unto mine sorrowed forme, but from endless love! Then I saweth the veil torne and fallen, so that none shalt standeth between Thou and Thy childer, for now, clothed in Thy own garment, Thine son so hastens to Thee leading Thy daughter, the woman thou hast given me through this land of Elsewhere, but for a time, until we art once again One in the presence of Thou, forever shalt we giveth praise, in Eden forever shalt we heed and obey, forever shalt we behold, forever shalt we be held forever

The saint’s hands, rugged as they be scars upon scars, bruised and callous broken and torn, shattered by war wounded and heavy, steel, dented and unlusterous, ragged like faded cloth stained and twisted, weary and labored as yoked beasts, panting under the cloudless sky, bearing the sun between their shoulders, trembling steady themselves now—— and fold into prayer

_Should moon have spoken to stay this maiden’s hand_ _or earth groan by warnings with shaking and quaking _ _as man stomps away dogs and beasts of the field _ _or beast could’ve howled and cried and wept _ _like mother holding lifeless child mourns with flame _ _for sun and stars then have neither warmth or light _ _and time could not console the sky of her clouds and winds _ _“Tragedy!” Shouts and roars the pity of that tree_ _and wilted should be all leaves for Mother’s outstretched arms _ _“Cursed!” should have boomed that thunder, splitting sea and stone ‘neath heavens cry_ _With these silent she could have heard that cruelty of hearts curse _ _or tone of serpent shrewd and moved and called,_ _daughter to her strong father _ _“Death!” roars the lion from his temple on the rock, where no ear listens for any time_ _And Adam said nothing. _ _08:08:2025_ ————-

True freedom means but this to me: that I am bound by love to Thee Though time may claim mine gold and place and man might steal mine rights away and carry all mine own in chains to bind us to the end of days… What man might take mine Lord away? With all else torn, He shalt remain! And if, with me, the Savior be: then though encased, I still am free!

Whence the heavens, rolled back as parchment, scrolls of all we’ve known, are stowed away, shown then wilt be softly lights far fiercer than man watching dawn by distance of mere breath, so too shalt the earth dance with sway of calm lovers and to music of stones who shalt sing, “_Glory_!” and stir, to lift above the ground, joined to the sea, golden and garmented with brilliant jewels rising up to the mountains bowed, stooped and humbled, with stopped mouths, then shall all low things soar and make right ground for Him to step down to us

What fierce ignorance art we to draw cords of our reason to bind the heavens to pull them down for us to enthrall eternal minds by our fading lessons? By very next vesper shalt be as never! T’will be we art a sleep now severed! Should wisest man e’er be so clever what to capture mist in iron fetters? To breach every stone with tips of feathers is to list our wits to the One Who knows better!

Green little sapling up from the ashes of trust breathes in new mercies

A Saturday, like all of them of late I stood on the corner holding life high so that fellow corpses may see counting the birds and their foul songs never before being so bothered that I can recall, downcast but not for my sake—— then a moth something beautiful and innocent refused to leave my body, clutching and clinging to my ugly in its beauty, and so I gave thanks and was made glad again then thought it unfair for such a creature to die because of _us_

Peel back a layer a small victory then over celebrate with underwhelming days, full and bursting with vicious little moments; hours gnawing away on your bones quietly now, ever so slight and _I bought the cheapest cigars, dear _ __ thought they may hold back the devil, or my skin, or both _ ——they didn’t_ We’re dizzied by the cycle so when the ride is over we’ll not be ready to run, so let’s puke and go again ——I’m so sorry I am me What are we to do with ourselves? When the fair ones deem us better, let us laugh and spin, for old times sake! Bring your hollowed heart! I’ll bring the sword of my tongue! Dance, dear! _Dance_! Show them they’re wrong about us! We’re _worse, _we’re_ dead _before they can tally a point, we’re cursed, we’re coarse, we’re spinning now, we’re only gonna be okay because we know the Owner, no, we ate Him, no, we _are _Him_,_ __ _ _He’s stumbling around in our death, we’re here standing in His brilliance __ __ __ called us better, that lot, Spin, love! _Spin_! _Don’t you dare cry! _ __ _Clap your hands! Mean it now!_ __ _Look at us! _ __ _We’re better! _ __ _We’re better! _ __ _We’re worse! _ __ _We’re dead! _ __ _Aha! _ __ _ _ __ _ _ __ __ __ __ __ __

Memento mori remember _remember_ for now thou art burning shalt one day be ember whence ember is faded t’will soon come to pass that all that is living shalt fall into ash

If hope is an anchor I’ll throw it to the clouds because I’ve been sailing in circles, taking on water braving the storms, a coward in my quarters, drowning on air, waving to the waves, alone, looking for the surface in my eyes, swabbing the deck with a broken mast, shivering beneath the sail, burning rations to see if I’m sunk —— O Christ catch my anchor! Make me still, bring me home in time for the tide, wash me away, calm the storms of me, send me off, a little warmth goes a long way

What blessing be bestowed to me that should I to the darkness flee or hasten to the deepest caves so that I should not know mine place or hide me in mine own soul’s depths within mine spirit’s lightless clefts and nestle me in mine nightmares of me, oh Christ, Thou art aware

I followed my heart by both dark and the day it’s every last mark I observed; I obeyed then reading life’s chart I saw I’d gone astray I followed my mind for a time and a time and mapped out the path with fervor and wrath then seeing it wind I foresaw I’d been blind I followed my self this being of flesh it lead me through hell took me to the depths then wishing me well left me feeling dead I followed One other, A Friend, yea, a Brother, Who led me in love to a life far above all my heart couldn’t find, and my head couldn’t mind, what my self wouldn’t seek, be I strengthened or weak, but that Good King did there, guide my wandering me, oh, to Heaven’s strange stairs up by God’s mercy there

Thy daughter, O God, whose bright eyes hath shewn me to Light, sat yestereve holding mine child, mine son, and sang with voice to sealeth the lips of angels, what melody I hath lost by the grace of that sound, whence mine boy’s eyes swelled with beauteous tears, moved like stirred waters by that frail heart poured out by gentle lips, so I, Thy son, gave way to mine own, mine eyes washed away by that gift, Thy daughter’s praise, I fought them naught, but let them flow with that song—— here I see Thy hath been singing all along——_all along _

For years we have gone on your hand in mine your head on my shoulder with that gentle sway the one of hearts poured out to God just the other day I realized all this time we’ve been dancing on the water

“If man is no friend of man, he is enemy to himself” I wrote it, to a friend, who may not see me as a friend — then; thinking, “_Surely I picked this up somewhere — like a man in his attic picks up webs and dust, and dusty webs — or a fire picks up dry things — or how dry things pick up wet._” But no! No! I sought to find what wiser man I’d stolen from, so to shake his hand once more—— but only there was I, my hand to _hold_ and _squeeze_ and _shake_ and _kiss_, then I realized my _pride_! No! It cannot be! _Surely some other has phrased this truth_, I thought then sought and wrought the stoics, the scrolls, the lively voices of bygone men, _But No! _ Then; seeing the state of our _lives_, I determined it could not be, as we are _no_ friends to one another, and so we _are_ besieging ourselves, and _if_ this true, then surely the words escaped _my_ jaw, fleeing from _me_ as _I_ fought that errored war within _myself_; and so; _no_ man heeds what words are _told_, for that, _my_ quote, is not from _old_ but _new_! But _no_! These words could not proceeed from _me_! For I am too, my _enemy_!

At times, I find myself keenly aware of gravity as if the pull of me to reality were some stranger, an object or artifact of dead language, a sort of hum, rhythmic and ancient a witness of time before time that unsettling weight, wherefore I am my own burden — or a stranger, a passerby who brushed against gravity, maybe that feeling, like fate is where I was heading, thinking I was trying to finish out the day, like I am doing what must be done despite my lack of awareness it were as if I was a child walking through the steps of my father’s, packed down by gravity, maybe into the winter snow helpless to tear my stride away from what lies before me _ (Cursed be all imperfect analogies!) _ __ _ _then_ _again, it is nothing of the sort some vision that I cannot see and so shall I fail to define or describe and so shall I fall into that path that endless road stretched out before me that absurdity; that destiny that prison of sorts, or gravity, maybe

How beautiful that blood that Thy Sole Son did spill on a criminals cross, for Thy children to heal! How great Thy True love, in such humble display! How far didst Thou stoop so to show dark Thy Way! How wide were Thine arms to the east and the west, so to hold Thy beloved, so to so call them blessed! How sweet is the sound of Thine unending grace! What love! Oh Father, to giveth us Thine own place!

Dearest condolences, t’was, alas, thy time to be ever taken for thine power doth wain by season yea shalt thy lordship be forsaken a dream, mere vagary—— a twilight treason borne of rebellious spirit thou were but to the ends of showing divide bound to thine way, so thou occured now broken, buried into Life of Christ Here lies Death forevermore whose grip was flame, a fiery torch now frail and feint, a feather bore —— rests here, e’er silent, ‘neath Heaven’s roar

I could throw myself down well, I have before well, I’ve done it again well, I’ll _do_ it again falling and falling I go—— _again_ and You never get tired of me in a flurry of feathers and soft wings I’m back at the start high up again, so I can see it all and I see You there laying dead once more in cold crimson where I ought to have landed but from Your love no rush of silken feathers sought to catch You for You had no care for You but only for me As maddening as it is _love_

You’ll have to crush me if You will pull the clouds along with You split the earth at my feet bring the stars together sharper yet life must become for the hell in me yet stands waiving its flag at my crown seven times around my head it goes stomping and roaring for my end then my faith comes crashing down to doubt listen to that song, those cries of victory aren’t I still in Your arms and heart? You’ll have to crush me if You will

That fell beast of flame and wing though slain by fine sword through thick scale rise again each harvest and consume goodly, Godly things of life and all green what fire and wind unshackled by mere breath talons no mortal smith could dream and bellows of molten rock and stone unknown to man or earth or sea whence stands o’er moonless, cloudless skies to gather stars by fierce inhale then breathe and break and blow and burst the treasure of the lives of peace true terror be on men of steel crisps of smoldering wicks be they though humble kindness knows its name and calls, _——“The beast returns!”_ _—“This thief!”_ __ _ “‘Tis Pride!” _

You were holding a candle in the dark, pretending it was the sun. Looking far by the light, but seeing so little. ‘_Day’ _you called it. Then the night crawled on eight limbs, crackling like fire, popping like flame, in the dark, where you couldn’t breathe. Chittering and moaning it moved toward you — _intruder,_ __ __ twisting_ _and_ _folding it into itself, teeth and skin and nails and repeat. You thought it human, for you wanted to be human too. Then with a hand that wasn’t a hand, but a world of shadow snuffed out that little candle, laughed at your _Day,_ __ __ opened wide its twelve mouths, and showed you you’re nothing, by the mirror on its tongue

See, please, good Father, Thy son’s weary soul See how far I fall and how marred are mine bones See the death I becometh by the day, by the night See the dark ransom me by the blood of the light How I’ve whispered in silence and cried for Thy hand Father, wither this hell that drags me to its land Though the moon weepeth not and the sun hath no care See, Christ Jesus, Thy son knoweth this: Thou art there

Blaze thee with thine fiercest day, fix thine eyes, command thine gaze, burn but thrice as bright; be blithe with love, now, with love; _Again_! And with no record, love to forgive! Oft we shalt aim to be not! __ _Nailed! Nailed we art to that cross! _ __ If so then what wrath shalt we store for another? But to hold, and cherish, and to love them as brothers? _Children_! We claim to be borne of that blood! Then _die_! _Die now! _And be borne of love! If in love ye have found that ye harbor yet hate, then be torn at the heart, and be ye outside of grace!