It glows in undreamed wonder
With felicity, ire, in camphor
Like condensed great passion
Full of pathos, ambient, amain
Wrapt in sweet music creeping
Upon the frozen waters lulling
Both its fury and her despair
Carrying them away to the Lethe.
Tag: Poetry
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The Masques of Ben Jonson
He was Man of Infinite Varieties
In the Craft of Words with Masques:
A High Priest of Poetry of Delphi,
A Prefect of the Ancient Knowledge,
A Thespian of Comedy and Tragedy,
A Hercules whose Might was Pen,
An Odysseus in Search of Truth,
A Pretorian of Classical Precepts
With the elevated Heart of Passion
And the exalted satisfaction of Reason
Whose Brilliance of Star Outlasts
The Celebrity of Instant Comets. -
Thistle, Ambient, Regret
She saw the hungry oceans
Rushing toward the kingdom
Of the shore with full force
In the scarlet rays of the sun
Pouring on the parched land
And turned her ship again
Toward the unpathed waters
Alone, all alone, evermore.
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Amorphous, Encompass, Barbarous
She walks into the gray maze
Of endless corners serpentine
In the prosperousness of the haze
Under a moonbeam travertine
Beguiling her into remote hopes
Cycle and epicycle, amaranthine.
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The Rambler – Religion
“To one who has faith, no explanation is necessary,” said Thomas More, who died for his relentless faith despite Henry VIII’s promise of honor he would confer on to his most trusted counsel in his cabinet. Samuel Johnson also confirmed that faith required no byzantine theories or philosophy for the validity of truth. Until I attended a public Sunday mass in a parking lot yesterday, I had not realized the power of faith, which I doubted I still had in my heart.
The beautiful liturgy of the mass, which culminated in the Eucharist, was akin to a flowing of streams of life to the eyes of a seasick seaman and the thirst of a weary traveler. I had never expected such exaltation of the soul with faith disappearing into an abyss of despondency populated with a school of doubt, disbelief, and frustration nurtured in a reality of everyday life. But while listening to a priest’s sermon based on the reading of Matthew 25:31-46, which is about the importance of practicing faith into actions, especially by sharing milk of human kindness with people you feel least likable or unkindest.
The priest further asked if we would counsel with God in making decisions in life or just about anything needful of help. No one answered yes because let’s face it, we regard such tendency to recourse to God as a derogatorily medieval way of living life in this Digital Age of Artificial Intelligence. We try to reason our faith with the validity of practical truth and willfully turn our heads from the Gospel with the usual facade of “Religion has nothing to do with it.” But then can you also prove that we are nothing but of a highly complex living organism made of accidental atoms, sans souls? What is the feeling that urges you to search for meaning in life, our sense of purpose? Can atoms do it?
It is my wholly solipsistic reflection of hearing mass, but now I feel like finding Ariadne’s Thread in the labyrinth to find a way out on this last day of the church calendar. What a feeling. Peace to be with you, and God bless you all. -
Timid, Sleepless, Evergreen
A sky maiden sprinkles stars
Across the celestial vault
With a moon mirror she hangs
As the earth below sleeps
And dances in the night light.
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