Phoenix

by DJ Sprague

Op.13  JHVH


Eros

 Split a piece of wood, lift any stone, look into your home..into your enemy's home, look to the earth, water, air, and fire!..it is there. If those who lead you say, "Behold!..the kingdom is in the heavens," then the birds will precede you. If they say that it is in the sea, then the fish will precede you. Rather, it is within you, and it is outside you...the eternal divine is 'all and everything,' with which, one atones 


 Atonement is with JHVH, 'all and everything'..not a word, not a thing. Venerate no image, mental or thing. No being, earthly or supernatural, can be all knowledge, all power, all space, all darkness. Venerate peace of mind. Respect equally..the truth of one's self, and the truth that is selfless. Judge not any being by seeking understanding until compassion is felt. Honor the spirit of marriage. Covet not, any thing, and to one's self, be true

 The divine is 'all and everything.' Love of the divine is the beginning of knowledge, and knowledge is the beginning of wisdom

  Of all the wisdoms to achieve, the first is that they need not be worn, upon one's sleeve

 Wisdom is better than rubies. It will not vary in value, and can never be stolen

 One, rich with silver and jewels may have nothing. One poor of them, may be among the richest in the world. One pre'occupied to gain silver and jewels, between their comforts becomes a target. One pre'occupied in the pursuit of wisdom, attains ever increasing comforts of its wealth, for its sum cannot be measured. Who consumes wisdom, satisfies the soul, but the belly of the seven deadlies, its appetite ever unsatisfied, shall always grow

 Wisdom for wisdom sake, its merit?..no more than a seedless husk, caught by a lesser wind, beginning its journey at dusk, and on, into the night

 Wisdom knows...haste is from want, patience from need..only from need, does wisdom breed

 Wisdom may be stricken, it may be sick..wisdom may be beaten, but ever awake, it shall seek again, knowing what succeeds, confirms..what does not, teaches. Wisdom..with success or failure, happiness or sorrow, ever increases in strength

 Wisdom knows when to pursue truth, when to give it voice, when to make it mute

 Wisdom knows that it does not cause inspiration, but only affirms what had already undergone revelation

 The sun rises and sets at the other end, and hastens to the place where it arises again. The wind flows south, turns north, and whirls and whirls, there and back again. Rivers run to the sea and disappear, and from the seas, rise to the sky, and from mountains high, reappear, running back again, to the sea. All that has been, and all that will be, has been before. What is now, will ever be again. In eternity, there is no thing new under the sun, for what is new, can never be known. There is no remembrance of all things past, or remembrance of all things now, nor of all to come. In eternity, remembrance is vital, but so is forgetfulness

 If I should say, "Creation is from the many," I am like the stem of a tree. A single eye I be, looking outward toward the branches and leaves, receiving nourishment from the sun. And if we should say, "Creation is from the one," we are like the many branches, the many eyes are we, looking toward the stem of the tree. Just a single tree therefore, can embody I or we that should happen to be. Within this tree, the one or many sources of creation are as one, drawing nourishment from the darkness below, from the light above..coming together to produce the fruit for its own way of life. Drawing nourishment from the dark within, and from the enlightenment there..the universal prevails amid the turbulent winds of complexity, and the particular is heavy, under doldrums of simplicity, but the fruits of creation endure, however the universe is perceived. And from the dust, from every rock and drop of sea, every tree and creature arose, anchoring deeper into the Earth, reaching higher into a world greater than what simple unity knows, or what colorful complexity can be

 And from some ancient past or distant future will life, self aware, inevitably beget time and eternity. All configurations of self'light readily occupy, convolutions of passive light. And the life courses, flowing, always glowing, its eternal moments, given eternities for change, given time to forget, to select and adapt itself, to course radiantly, and ever live on

 Wind'blown sand insults flesh. Desiccated earth impoverishes soul. Without time, loving only what is sublime, knowing evil and hating its object beyond the tolerance of flesh, complexities of affection and hate readily mold innocence until 'good and evil' re'emerges...and assuming immortality, again seeks its destiny in new flesh, and the end of a worn out shell. Hell has no bounds for the eye, unable to separate what the eye holds from what it beholds everlastingly, and locate where evil truly, holds fast

 A thousand cries, a thousand dies. So born from extremes of affection and hate, the eyes having opened conceiving evil, become as treacherous, sharp, and destructive, as good can be protective and nurturing. The fruit forbidden, innocence hidden..fermented from powers over life, over humankind, its heady wine with intoxicated vision becomes feared, as a god would be feared, or adored, as a goddess needs to be adored. Innocence in bondage becomes indentured by the vain..darkly divided by 'good and evil' conceived..ever conquered, ever conquering, never nurtured without an ever watchful eye. Deceived with precision and calculation, the child dwells in isolation until the forbidden fruit, bearing new seed, becomes apparent. From generation to generation, is some 'good and evil' prevailing. With one impassioned outpouring of spirit into another, with one hand caressing, the other enchaining..with one eye loving, the other coveting, this entity, deep under the rose, having grown old, soon beholds itself...incarnate in another! But the fruit is bittersweet, for with the Cherubim, the child became lost, and what was left, became master of illusion, of themselves and everything else. Such is the nature of 'good and evil' refrains, with the child within, silent and comatose, aware, but of life, only dimly aware

 For earthly incarnation, a being is bound. The child severs the lifeline of the womb. Womanchild, manchild readily lives deep, unabashed, unashamed. And free to live, the child fits in perfection with creation..boundaryless, as one eye unique, as one of many..seeing clearly, seeing far, wide, and deep when innocence prevails and lives

 What is this belief? that whosoever is not as I, is evil and an enemy. What is this belief of evil? that transcends and overruns others who live. How did this word, live, become so completely turned? that like a lethal serpent's fang hanging in the shade, or like the air, filled with the waters of an unforeseen flood, the living can be so swiftly, so easily whisked away. Another life can be taken, or entire universes can be discounted for evil's name sake. Centers of a universe, such good'evil becomes..becoming dark holes in space where light enters and does not leave. How can truth absolute, by itself, live? but within those who would be as a god with unending appetites for power, and evermore, for greater power

 With such predators of innocence, the mind consumes the living. Predatory mind feeding upon innocent spirit's flesh. Loving rigidly, conditionally..using sensual desire to control, or emotion to enslave compassion, as one eye endentures another, until itself, in the other, it sees. Fear and desire in eternity, so profoundly separate from the dust and water, it lives upon the precipice of extinction, possessing and clutching every thought, belief, and isolated song for the sake of, the immortal body it makes. Such apparent immortalness, such vanity seeking life for life, is the vanity that venerates the consuming night, and melancholy song of early morn

 How easy life seems when one chooses to perceive only themselves within others. How joyous is life in one hand, with vanity in the other? How easy is faith made shallow, sensitive only to itself, enslaved. Such an overlord blinds as much as it sees. And they are innocent therefore when blind...as innocent as newborn innocence they are, however much they are charged only with themselves

 Long ago, it seems, did I begin. So formed from a vast history of countless evolutions given for this day, the sum of its knowledge within a single seed. This seed nurtured from the dust of Earth, gives this body through which I live. At one my body is, with the past and the world today! And when great pressures of emotion unbearably press upon me, at one with my body I become. At one with all there is, I be, freed from all bits of matter, I call me. At one with 'all and everything,' there is only the thresholds of my senses and the space to feel a larger, greater world than what troubled mind can see...here, where innocence is cleansed of pierced ears, finger rings, neck adornments, or any other fantasy fashioned into some novelty. Here, at one with all, vision repairs blunted light, and keeps clear, the way back to Eden, as I were, in my beginning

 What symbol can there be? or what sound can be meaningful for all that is? What force can be omnipotent? What place, omnipresent? What knowledge can be omniscient? or ignorance, that is truly omninescient. What can any thought of life be, but a word born by the one through which we perceive as a limited being. An indeterminate universe of words we are within, perceiving others without, while being what I feel, what I think, what I know...and what I do not know. And the greater of me perceives the dust from which we came. We are born into the world of 'all and everything.' Of power that is within every bit of substance, we are..of the universe of light, we are amid the sleep, of consciousness deep

 After separation from all, and so fallen from grace, I am mortally bound, self'aware. And being so limited, and so constrained, a dichotomy is, between the eros I am, and the agape we are. Only by atoning with 'all and everything,' as I were in my beginning, can my rapport with life be ever increasing. From a'far, I can feel the clouds rising from the sea, or the snows mounting from passing rains..or the coursing rivers nurtured by mountain streams. How otherwise can the spirit of the waters be seen? rising from the sea, sleeping upon mountains, and flowing back to its vast beginning. Of the dichotomous whole, is the dust of rock, the emptiness of air, the light of sun..the living everywhere, is of an indeterminate world. So this life can so easily be..deep asleep while wide awake. Living in forgetfulness of 'all and everything,' who can comprehend all the elements that are? and remain able to perceive in that instant, the systems of those elements. And what end of time do we choose to become wiser? What other end could there be? but that which begets the dust of Earth from which I sprang. The 'all and everything' beyond me that was, is, or could ever be, does inevitably beget me. Sweet peace there is. Pleasant rest from a self'seeing eye, we be. Profound peace everywhere within. And here, in this dreamless sleep, is where wisdom brightens, when time becomes the delicate sound, through which all self'conscious light is bound

 Once a needed truth is found, one is born again, and by it, knows their ‘beginning and end’ in a long progression of them. Once reborn, no passion can be great enough to make the memory of this occasion, easily forgotten. But how forgotten can an all embracing world be? when there is time aside foreverness, when there are all things and their oppositions, and all things unique. What manner of space can this be? but this space of life where anything, in due course of time, may exist for all that can possibly be listed, as the ‘beginning and end’ of any being

 If all light and darkness created, are of one..if all peace and war are of one..if all good that could ever be envisioned, if all great wrongs that could be imagined, are also of the same dichotomous one, whosoever speaks of good therefore, says of their own morality. Whosoever shouts about bad, speaks only of their own way of life within a world always greater than what mortal or would'be immortal could ever be. If one should claim to possess the essential vision of the universe, one becomes the most isolated, the most innocent in that universe. If one knows the least, they become the most incarnate in the universe, and also, the most innocent

 Within this universe of 'all and everything,' how can one be? but a traveler, a wayfarer with no place to stop for more than a brief passing eternity..no place to rest for the best of what is deep to awaken, arise, and follow the songs, from which one was beget. Youth can only be a wanderer, it seems. Painfully angst. An unsteady emotion daring not to feel too much in one place. Time's pace is fast! Time's gait is slow. Time, ever fast or slow, never seems real at all

 For every thing, there is a season, and a time for every reason. A time to be born, and a time to burn, as the Phoenix burns. A time to plant, and a time to reap. A time for bleeding, and a time for healing. A time to weep, and a time to laugh. A time to get, a time to lose..a time to keep, a time to choose. A time to destroy, and a time to create. A time to embrace, and a time to withhold. A time to be bold, and a time to be weak. A time to speak, a time to be meek. A time to sew, and a time to rend. A time to begin, a time to end. And a time for love...to love and love, and love

 When the time of life stops to wait for me, I hear, "Wayfarer, traveler with heart secret and silent...no place to stop, no place to settle and rest. Destiny, fate..for these you wait until providence gives..waiting always, within some dark awkward room that you would not otherwise, ever think to occupy. Wayfarer, wanderer..do not find too much comfort for your head. Do not let too much beauty fill your eye, nor too much wonder, enchant your mind. Do not let your feet sink, too deep into the warm softness of Earth. Do not allow yourself to be touched too deeply by simple joys of living. No feelings so deep, nor laughter so high because the heart needs more time to open, within a world where a grain of sand can fill the sky, where one can feel less than the smallest whiff of wind"

 Only a wayfarer can I be, when separated from ‘all and everything.’ At one with 'all and everything,' all of creation has equal station...all places of light, the seas of space, their vast sweeping currents, the rivers flowing..the vision denying all, the passion in reverence of all...the relevant truths, the isolated facts..the many eyes seeing the same in all directions..the one eye, seeing in one direction, so many different things

 Remembrance of things past, anticipation of things to come serves only upon condition that it serves things now. Otherwise, we are predisposed to not remember, nor to anticipate anything

 Aye! It is true. Time is a relative thing! A necessary invention. All that can be imagined to happen has happened, and will happen again. All imaginings and every detail variation thereof, was real and shall be real again! Only forgetfulness, keeps this 'here and now.' As events passed through the hiatus in my sleep, so any number of them, universe to universe, may pass between identical selves and their repeating events. This matter, this space needing no hint of time to be. In this here and now, variations of 'all and everything,' time'light bears the burdens of its own convolutions. Endless cycles of construction and deconstruction, am I...but only that I do not remember. Only so, I will inevitably forget


Agape

A literary portrait of Yeshua ben Gabriel


 Once, long ago, a manchild was immaculately conceived, from a dream seed of life so spirited, in a fertile womb within whom the dream was venerated. He was chosen to bear the burden of so much pain, bring water to a desolate plain, and with spirit impaled, vanish and forever remain. Yeshua...was his name

 Who were they?..that were ever'ready to give their heads away? What calamity lays them down? What hopelessness keeps them prone? What despair makes them eat the dust there, and compels that bitter dust to overlord the rest

 Once, long ago, a man cried in the wilderness, he fought the self righteous, he sought a greater love, his light shined in the darkness, but the darkness comprehended it naught

 The light therefore, will not dignify hate with hate, nor magnify any fault apparent, for the light seeks only peace in prayer, not a greater light. The light seeks the paradise of a child's eye, not 'eye for an eye.' And with the dark wisdom of a child, seeks also, love beyond self love

 And so, like the traveler upon the waters that nourish the 'tree of life,' and like its fruit, which must inevitably separate, the light will distance itself from flesh, for spirit inseparable from flesh and bone, remains un'reflected in carnal darkness


1  The spirit of the tora is within me. I have been anointed to teach the law to the 'poor in spirit.' I have been sent to heal the brokenhearted, to offer deliverance for captives of vice, sight to the blind'minded, and free others confined within themselves

 Heaven, hell, purgatory!! They are alive and well on Earth. The universe of the tora is within and without

 The only throne upon which I sit, is within. Everyone has their own! upon which, too many are all too willing to have others occupy. Those who would reign from another's throne, do so without thought of another's thought of who one ought to be, for no earthly ruler, no oppressive provider can force an inalienable right from its throne without karma to pay

 Release the anger while it is still an ember! Let it out!! Everyone has the power to battle and conquer afflictions within. Dethrone fear. Destroy its crown! Yet, fearless be not, less courage you have not. Only to masters of fear will I show how to cast a net for heart, where there seems to be not, for wisdom is father, tender cradle...mother. With them, behold the sea of life and all its splendor! And as I, enpursuant of my own candor, is all life in stillness and motion, for itself a seeker

2  The peacemakers have already achieved the dominions within, at one with all, at rest from all

 To judge where conscience is not, is to judge innocence. Judgment is made only by one's self to one's self, and even there, within, is innocence where conscience is not

 Blessed are the poor in spirit, for they thirst for spirit, for wisdom, within and without

 Blessed are those who hunger for wisdom, for they shall acquire riches that cannot be stolen

 Blessed is love that weeps, for how greater will its thanksgiving be, learning what forever keeps

 Blessed are those who are hated for the sovereignty within them!! Their reward is heaven inside the life outside. Those who hate you for your sovereignty, in like manner did their fathers do the same to the prophets they now institutionalize. And within these institutions, they have raised themselves above you!..and have given themselves the right to tax your work for themselves, and your spirit for their godhood

 'All and everything' is the divine spirit. With this deep, and carnal knowledge keep, innocence will weep naught, and the lion will sleep with the lamb, for only in that slumber, will dreams number sufficiently enough, to feel true that day

 Give compassion to those who love what they see in polished metal, because they have become blinded to all, but what they see there. They know not how limited their world is, knowing not, with each added gold coin or jewel, why feeling impoverished, remains  ever the same

 Beware of those who are praised by the Pharisees. So did their fathers praise false prophets. Can the blind lead the blind? Shall not both? course on the same rutted path to everywhere, but within

 Do good to them who hate you. Hate is an affliction. Would you be the progeny of affliction? by letting hate beget hate in you

 He in need who steals your overcoat, forbid him not to take your coat also. So give, to teach what is greater...the coat, or the spirit within

 As you would like others to respect you, do likewise to them. Such respect is your authority and dominion. Even those burdened with guilt, will respect those who respect them

 By judging not, one needs not be in the business of forgiveness. Judge not, but forget not, and thereby with remembrance, seek understanding until compassion is felt

 Give, and it shall be given to you in good measure. Pressed and shaken together, and running over shall others give. With the measure that you give, that measure shall be the very least given back. And those who think you mad, childish, or foolish, will remember you the longest, and pass on, the good measure, even if they should not ever see you again

 Why criticize the mote that is in another's eye, and not see the beam that is in your eye?!! Cast out first, the beam in your eye, and then see more clearly, how to help another pull the mote out of their eye

 Weep not, for what you buried within. What is buried, remains dead only through ignorance. The still'spirit can be resurrected! What is un'living in ignorance can be enlightened! and raised to live

 The world is, as you conceive of it. Do not conceive evil therefore. Only by such conception can evil be, and subsquently..is dignity given to ignorance, and for the wounded, a profession as a wounded heart

 If you have devils troubling you, hold a mirror to each, for only by, evil eye beholding evil eye, does evil die. Otherwise, your devils will have their way, and herd you along, as you scurry along with the frightened swine, running blindly into a sea

 A house divided against itself falls. Mote'd eyes are divided against themselves. How else can they see? but through the storms, their thorns and calamities make. Can deviled eyes be plucked? with another's deviled fork. A deviled spirit may leave, but if your authority is not sovereign, other deviled spirits may enter to take your throne, and be worse off than before

 Lasting worth is not measured by the abundance of a thing, nor dignity that high position may bring. The abundance of a valued thing attracts others with the same value. The attraction lasts as long as the value lasts, and if all that is left is the thing..a thing, being a thing, cannot value you back

 No servant can serve two masters of mammon without becoming hated by one and loved by the other. Once by insight within, you see, a greater world belongs to you. Would you trade the road upon which you may travel freely? for the opulent confinement of mammon's cell from which, the road you cannot see

  If there is but one evil eye by which you perceive, its calamity you will take with you..not your abundance of things. Those will be left behind

3  With money and power, flattery becomes a commodity. Such power bearers, though famous in their time, were never known. The last in mammon's eye, shall be the first to see the dominion within

 An apostle cannot be above the master, but by every understanding, every insight that the apostle shares with the master, makes the apostle equal to the master

 The blind'minded will see, the crippled spirit shall walk. The lepers are cleansed with dignity. The deaf'minded will hear, and the dead'spirited shall rise. What in this wilderness did you come to see?...the wind shaking a reed? Or someone adorned in fine clothes? What have you come to see!!...a master? Good! But remember, no man who has lit a candle will put a vessel over it, or place it under a bed. It will be placed where the light will do good. Nothing is secret that cannot be made apparent, nor so hid, that it cannot be revealed

 When offenses are healed because understanding and compassion is great, much can be healed, much can be owned. Likewise, to whom little is healed, there is but little understanding and compassion, and only little of themselves can be owned, only little can live

 A farmer went to sow his seed. As he sowed, some fell by the wayside, and birds devoured them. Some fell upon a rock, and withered away. Some seeds fell among wild thorny weeds, choking them from lack of light. But other seeds fell on good ground and grew to produce good fruit a hundredfold. The seed is the tora, the wisdom as it issues from the Tree of Life. The wayside birds are predators who indenture others within their smaller world, rather than devote themselves to the tora of a greater one. The rocks are those who hear and even receive the word with joy, but because of their hardness, the seeds are unable to root. The thorny weeds are those who have sprung from fear and hate, and overshadow and block the light of the tora. The good ground represents they, who, with the pursuit of understanding, acquire the same compassion as the master, and the means to nurture the Tree of Life within them

 You fear where you need not fear, and fear not where you should. Who follows me, let them bear themselves, their daily cross

 What advantage does anyone have if they gain power over the whole world, and lose themselves?! Whosoever resurrects the lost child within, gains themselves, and the means to keep power from consuming them

 Do not forbid anyone from their faith. If their god is at war with the world, so shall they be, afflicted with every war and weary of every war infirmary. After the war is over and the afflictions remain, they are ready for the tora

 Generations have made wine from the fruit of the Serpent's Tree! They want proof and greater proof! They seek the truth of a magician's trick! A soothe sayer's truth..where only half is needed to prove...the other half, to serve vanity and greed

 Pharisees, O' Pharisees!! You have received tithes of precious oils and rare herbs from another's rue, for your pious vanity and pleasures of authority true...receiving all, but real treasure...judging naught and gaining insight. The latter you ought to have done, and leave the other undone

 Offenses will come, and of those who offend, a millstone is already hanging from their necks. If you are rejected, seek elsewhere an ear that can hear. If after hearing you, they are in sorrow, say to them, 'they are not judged' 

 Let the children come to me. Do not forbid them. Such innocence is the dominion of the tora, for whosoever does not enter the dominion as a child, can not enter

 After I arrive in Jerusalem for Passover, all things that are written by the prophets concerning me shall be accomplished. I will be delivered to the unrighteous, the pious, and the hypocrites. I shall be mocked, and be treated with bitterness, and spat upon. They will scourge me, and condemn me to death. But upon the third day after, I shall be delivered. Remember, flesh is host to death and transfiguration, not lost to it. Resurrection is the awakening of the life within you that before laid dark

 That poor widow there. The pennies she has given. What she gives, no one notices. What she gives in poverty, rich men are not able to give with all their gold

 This sweat dripping on stone, drops of blood falling to ground. The time of this mission nears its end. And all you!!..who would be king, ask if I am king! Yes, I am...of myself

 And you ask, "Are you the Son of God?" And I ask you, "How can I be the son of what is incomprehensible? without prayer, atonement, and self'transcendence."

4  Out from all, I struggled to be, pursuing ever greater light, seeing a heavenly star, inevitably becoming a son of all, of 'all and everything.' In the great wastelands there is peace, and my heart is soothed there. Dwelling there, I feel the presence of the fierce and the cunning, and in the city is the wilderness of arid hearts. Feeling silent darkness, relentless allusive pain, un'appeasable appetites, my guard is sharpened by predatory wantonness. In this vast wasteland, I feel my own self clearly, heavily...this world within!...itself the substance of starry bodies, a firmament, a heaven within, a haven to dwell within..a temple of thought so easily suited for its maker, for from one's own nature, one's own creation, one may make, however isolated it may be. Even with body in isolated bondage, what chains can truly bind? What army or what Caesar?..can rule such allusive substance, as the stars are 

 Once, by the edge of a desert pond, to my world within from beyond, I heard the waters speak, for me to keep..."All of the past is flowing to a future when terror and fear shall not rule, when 'all and everything' will be revered as God, but before this age, there shall come a time when there is no place to travel, no place to run...no frontiers beyond an eagle's vision...no place to go, but within"

 In the heavens above, do the waters gather. From the mountains they flow. As the sea, they become one before transfiguration by light. There, in the misty heavens, I feel they know a world far greater than me. The ways of life are as varied and unpredictable as any being could be...or as sovereign as any tradition may reign, or as firm as a Caesar's edict can be, for wherever there is need, there is love, as profound or not as need may be, as deep as vision can see, deep or shallow. So much beauty is there in creation! All the creatures, all the resplendent floras, so many creations..their texture, contour, color..yet, by such heavy forbearance of heart was I possessed..a heaviness pervading, a restraining keeping me little more than an onlooker, that only by the very dim hues of broken light was my deep revealed...my deep there, asking..."Where is life?..in this civilized world. Should not the young such as I, have more questions, more darkness than answers and light? Is this not to be aware of life? And where is the need by mystery to see?..for there is no shame in ignorance, there is no shame to be so, since by darkness also, does creation exist" 

 Possessed I have been, by the temptation of ascension in a world created by mammon, a venture of some unending gain, reaching again and again for some want...eternally restless, relentless, and gaunt. This is well indeed, if there is no life, no time...no place within, for rest. So, youth passes from all'knowing forever'living, from generations of 'good and evil' notions, from the changeless change, from the eternal sameness. Such is the lot of inner darkness..youth in isolation. Must this be an eternal way of life?..for so cold it be, that only angst is where feeling would be free, where inner darkness rules, and inner light is as swift and fleeting as the waters pouring down through high mountain streams. And here, upon a threshold of my own being, I would ask youth, indentured to power..."Is there something greater, than 'all and everything'? And you say, "God is here, but not there!" And I say to you, "To what station must you assume to make those judgments?" And I say to you again, "Must 'all and everything' be the likeness of you?" And you say, "But it has been written that God made Man in his own image." And I say to you, "It shall be written, that fallen Man has not only made God in his own image, but gave God the same gender as Man"

 "Where is life!..that I should be impaled for becoming aware of my own light. This is the cross I bear, the one I bear now, to but simply be

 Children of fear rule by fantasy's whim..and by them, fruits of life are given only to the chosen few. From those few, pity deals pennies to the down'trodden. Within the dust of the market places, this 'here and now' is fleeting, past but vague imagery..the future, some dark uncertain beast

 Cast under this worst of all tyrannies, my soul cries, my spirit dies, for I have witnessed mortal judgment, and by that judgment, were they driven and flogged, and bearing their heavy end, impaled upon wood with rope and nail. This pain enters me deeply. Unbearable deeds! Who are those by 'good and evil' judge. Who are they!!..to say, where God is, where God is not

 Desert winds are among us. Lifeless dust passes through us. A barren domain beckons me from a'far. I cannot bear to see so many make so many more faceless, impaled, and lifeless. To a sea long since dead, below all other oceans of life, am I drawn

 I once rested beside a silent vestige of a distant past, only to see uncertain horizons, and winds speaking to rubble, and restless mountains moaning and shifting in the night. What pathetic despair!..that I should feel such peace here, within this old palace overlooking a dead sea. I feel I am much like its crumbling walls and pillars..and like its paintings, my dreams are fading...solace wasted, with gardens long since dried and gone. From this palace ancient made, upon a heavy bright day, I saw an ancient sea, made of fatal brine bordered by the shores of dust and rock, as if to say, "The past cannot be brought back. Uncertain futures, empty and black. And because there is no wisdom sought, we know not what shall come to be. No bit of feeling, nor particle of thought"

 I attached myself to objects that seem pleasant and stable. I become those symbolic things that seem to be so assured. My logic moves from one object to another. On the edge of a dream, I am that I am afterall!..within the shambles of my own temple of thought. High upon this plateau, my island in the desert, I may rest looking over a dead silent sea. I am here because there is no life, except when brief rains should come..when its supple nature assures me of life ever after. Sadness becomes even darker when beauty, for a moment, is given. What hope is there for one?!..who, by the sight of beauteous springing life, saddens. Soon, yet all too soon it seems, I shall be gone..and my spirit shall retreat, but not before I pause, upon the precipice of extinction

 My tomb is the wind of the desert, passing as the only hint of time. Day and night are the same. Distractions from the rising heat of a barren earthen floor. Within these ruins of opulence, my deep is spent and scattered into broken fragments of my past. Aye!..therein are the time capsules of dreams. Dainty bottles for perfumes and tiny combs of those intrepid sweet beings..who think nothing at all of improving a bit, on what has already been given to them by nature

 Within the catacombs are objects molded and shaped by nimble hands, working quickly with no thought of yesterday or tomorrow. Within such innocence, there is only the now. Only spangles, baubles, and jewels..and practical things, particular things of apparent value within some lost past that now lay silent and dust heavy..waiting, as I do..to be seen

 Within the cisterns is the elixir of life that once trickled into fountains and filled sacred baths..wherein, the misted'minded cleansed the body, where the flesh becomes blessed by every thought. The flesh hosting simple light, its freedom of thought..that elusive, ethereal sense of being free..that sublime feeling, that eternal sense of freedom. But with violent intent would cunning rulers of mind dwell within the hearts of other would'be gods, overlords to life..reverent only, to their own

 Wrathful violence!! Cunning Caesar! Lifeless space everywhere seen, the waters and dust of me will separate forever. I feel thunder distantly. Rains pounding, hitting body. So softly they touch, so faint and far away they be. Like a good word perhaps, will my passing be. Something meaningfully spoken, clear..unabashed..hopeful, but perhaps forgotten

 Darkened day..to my father high in the mountains!...where is peace now! Have you forsaken me?! I feel a cold stillness..a gentle veil of a violent moon impaled by fear. Darkness of mind I bear. Such bondage will surely rule until the last great war between eros and agape ends, when they become equally stationed..when the world will be crowded with no frontier..no place to go but within. Then, only then!..evil's dwelling be seen..for only with an eye turned inward and evil espied, can evil die

 Suspended within, within this silky feeling slipping, I see the vast firmament of the sea. So far away it seems, I feel faintly and distantly, feeling people softly, dimly. So innocent they are, they know not, what they do

 Wisdom is in everything, everywhere! My rage..but wind and rain and lightening passing from a moonless night into this grey midday. In Jerusalem...where is the temple of life!? Where is the temple?..the  spirits over land and sea..from everywhere going to everywhere through lofty dreamstates, evergreen!..the deep rich valleys, the sweet green meadows..quiet lakes of crystalline blue, the creatures, the seasons..the sparkling firmament is true..as true as this good Earth, our vessel, traveling through a sea of space. And as the Earth is to the stars, I am to life everywhere. Inconspicuous, silent body, I...I open to commend my spirit spent. Heart I be, for all to see. Light of the starry heavens, I seek

epilogue

 Some time after surviving the ordeal of the Roman cross, and encouraging his apostles, even Thomas who thought Yeshua was lost, to carry on with the mission for anyone who would listen, Yeshua was in a desert south of Damascus. He was on a journey there, to intercept a bounty hunter of his apostles, known as Saul of Tarsus. Yeshua found him nearly dead, prostrate on the hot desert floor with eyes swollen shut. Yeshua revived him and brought him back to life. Saul was a wise man, and was moved by the compassion of Yeshua. Saul was so moved, it caused him to become Paul, the apostle

 In the desert south of Damascus, Paul, having fully recovered from his near death experience, understood every word spoken by Yeshua, and saw brightly and far, long before his eyes were able to open. And when his eyes could open, he saw a man in white, somewhat gaunt, but strong in spirit. A scarred hand showed through a worn sleeve as it grasped a staff. His gentle eyes were steady and strong...and they said, "Shalom"

 Paul watched Yeshua leave, and at a distance over the hot desert floor, a silvery lake appeared under Yeshua's feet, over which he strode. The image of his form wavered with the heat rising. Sweat pours down Paul's face. He does not move. He intently watches Yeshua walking on water until Yeshua's form wavers and dissipates with the heavy heat rising...ascending into the sun


REV:  Sept 2017

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