Pray, Prey

"Praying is asking; meditation is listening"

At what point-if any-does saintly
become so sacrificial
that death is its ultimate end?

When, if ever, does the heart of an angel,
hit with its own dart,
concede this too
must be divine?

Whence and why does Spirit
move energy so intensely
it reverberates into the material
realm?

Maybe the middle is maddening
to mock me
for the time
I put into making such massive
messes.

I have studied for this test.
All of the questions cannot be known
before-
I have learned
only enough to get by
and yet I try
anyway
I can
to pass-
to move on
to the next question.


Painting by Margaritis Georgios, 'Sappho praying to Aphrodite' before 1843 [Public domain].

a lone path way

some thing stirs
out there
with out us
with in
we name hope
hanging on
be came
pulling up
our gaze
only then
some thing
in finite
may be
seen.


Photo credited by Carol M. Highsmith, Santa Catalina Island, 2012 in [Public domain].

reception

I was called upon
to light the candles
I arose first
to a voice
in the dark

and listened

Over my right shoulder
and above
whispers
as a breeze
would hum

and falls across my skin
like daybreak

It was not necessary
to know
more than could be heard
and I do not ask
for repetition
as in prayer

for a sign

a flicker as sure as
aglow,
I kept
quiet, in order
to Here myself
saying 'Yes'

while carrying the flame.


Painting by Godfried Schalcken, c. 1670-1675 in [Public domain].

“Here”

Raise my hand-Why

would I point to myself

up high?

That is an outdoor activity-

cloud seeding and closing in on where

parchment persists.

Not spoken to, only @

A step back, none needed

knowing any more than No.

Tell me again what Confucius said-

To air is human.


Painting By Paul Louis Martin des Amoignes (1858–1925) (Bonhams) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

+Advice

Meanwhile,

all your work was not wasted.

See,

you wouldn't have understood me

before.

What's more,

you already knew these things,

such as; simple sayings, adage, axioms
and cliches, articles of accessory

seemed so gaudy, and yet
tried. 

Unlike any new advice such as

subtle suggestions, elbows 
and a nudge,
not this way, we learn as we
make progress. 
You

have this one life, one chance, one

You

must do what you love

Now.

Ask.

Ask not for permission, 
don't wait for approval 
don't doubt
empty pockets have holes.

Ask without question what is
Best. One foot at a

Time, time

is watching you
while you have an eye on it.

This time 
is yours, borrowed.

Counting the friendly hour,

you

count on hands

and wonder what it all

amounts to.

Like wilting exclamation marks,

on a petrified Dali branch,
there was always the expression 
and what it meant
to you. 

Image of painting by Honoré Daumier [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons, Advice to a Young Artist (1865-68).
Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot [1796-1875], Paris; (his estate sale, Hôtel Drouot, Paris, part III, 7-9 June 1875, no. 665); purchased by Arthur Stevens.[1] Guillotin, Paris, by 1901. Adolphe A. Tavernier, Paris, by 1901.[2] [Ernest?] Cronier, by 1904. Goerg [or Georg], Reims, by 1905. A. Bergeaud, Paris, in 1910.[3] (Alex Reid & Lefèvre, Ltd., Glasgow and London), by 1927; sold to D.W.T. Cargill [1872-1939], Glasgow. (M. Knoedler & Co., New York), by 1928.[4] (Galerie Étienne Bignou, New York); sold 1941 to Duncan Phillips [1886-1966], Washington, D.C.; gift 1941 to NGA.

Deaf, dumb and mute (me)

If you ask me Today
I'd undoubtedly admit
I was built this way,
it is my arch-i-texture
rehearsed.
If you ask the same Tonight-
I might not answer,
despite having something nice to say.

Either way, those questions get slightly worse
all the time
So I'd rather not ask, it is not my task,
I consider this a gift,
I try to listen louder
than anyone can Here.





Painting by Fernand Khnopff, Silence (1890), [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

To Whom this Invocation May Concern

How am little i,
oh wisest one,
to beg, plead, ask of you-
To whom do I direct this to?
i've been patiently holding it in,
awaiting your silent reply,
yet I regret to inform,
i'm grasping
at air-
missing you there,
perhaps...
-will come when you're ready,
pending by suspension,
willing my belief.
Just know,
as anticipating listener,
my tongue is in your hands.
i banish my own banter,
drowning your voice,
gurgling from my inner ear.
No More! Silence!
i remain fixed, devoted
and listening to every
syllable you may say,
chomping at all your
crisp wafer clues
not knowing how to
thank you.
when you come and go
abruptly as you
please
leaving me hanging
dead before the echoes back
because I never caught your name...


Composed 11/6/15

Image of painting by Sophie Gengembre Anderson, Portrait of a Young Girl [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.