Incarnation’s mystery! God came down
in priestly vestments of frail human flesh,
left Glory’s Crown for lowly manger crèche,
Sacrifice born so lost sons could be found!
Our King-Priest grew as Carpenter, disguised,
to build a kingdom that would not be seen
except by those the world marked as ‘un-keen‘—
His ‘sheep too dumb‘ to walk as pride advised.
For just as Christ was birthed in humble state,
so too His kingdom‘s children are reborn
through poverty of spirit, hubris torn,
to enter through the lowly, narrow gate.
And as Christ died for us, then rose to life,
He lives through us when to ourselves we die.

The Past - Never Forget

1. On Rejection of History, Fallible Geniuses:

Do not seek present fault in past greatness
Condemning yesterday men with morrow crimes
The sift of time works in unfathomable wonder
Leaving only truth grains of real substance
Do not discard these foods for thoughts
For being misshapen and the occasional spots
For they were gold among ashes and dust
And the learnt, and healed is never without scars

2. On the Embellishing of Poetry

Don't dread or torment yourself if you fear
Your words aren't decorated enough
For one day only truth will remain
And truth never hides, but bares itself plain
If you dress your poetry overabundant, shimmer and gleam
It might just be overlooked, the soul underneath
And be discarded as earthly things
Obscured by the camouflage of timely beings

3. On the Timelessness of Simple Words

Gaze from below, the tomes of giant
How plainly they walk in the clouds
At most a dress or cling shimmering humbly
And never so full of jewels and gold lest they
Fall from the heavens
Bearing the weight of earthly greed








The Present - Always Remember

A Love Letter to Lost Tattered Souls

I. On the Desperate Desire for Immediate Praise

Why do I so desperately desire recognition
When I know full well glory is beyond time
Even hither
Praises too early gained would
Place one above all in the midst
Of the wheel of fate
Yet
Soon or later with only room to fall
And be crushed by the
Cruel reality
Of eventual and inevitable
Tedium

Unlike a life ever on the climb
Or of a timely return to the everlasting
That will be never be subjected to
The suffocating dread
Of such a loss
Of height

As
The roaring gale would always lose to
The ever-present calm wind
Vital yet unnoticed like the breath of being

And

II. On Envy of Brightly Garnished Words

Why do I despair when my words
Don't glitter like gold
That would make wise men
Lament in fist-raising envy
And mock the children that
Don't understand them

When I know the truth are
In words that would move children
To tears of laughter
And laughter of comfort
As per The Word
That is equally
Ridicule by men
Of ashes and dust-
That will never understand-
Or remain upon-
This world-
As something beneath them-

Like the earth that supports
All living creatures
And the humble grass for lambs
To graze

Be the needed
Not the desired
But unnecessary

And


III. On Shame of Undying Unrequited Love

Why would I feel shame to wail in despair
Beyond my control for a word of your love
When
What is love, without patience in suffering,
What is suffering without pain?
And what is pain without complaint?
There are truth and devotion in my lament
A testament of my bearing the constant silence
Yet still singing devotedly forever
For the suffering Nevermore

Conclusion:

Love fearlessly your overlooked
Plain imperfections
And unbloomed seeds of poetry
Burrowed in the present land of a future
Undying forest
Far outlasting the abandoned and
Overgrown gardens of timely praises
That's now lost in maintenance
And translation

As with the minute storms
And only half-day suns
You don't want to plant your love
In bricks of spotless silver and gold
Nor do you want to bury them
In scorched earth
That have never greeted a
Raindrop or the
Stars

called me in for a consultation,

“lean in,” he suggested, with nearly closed eyes,

“see the youthful optimistic predecessor,
the conqueror, who could not be defeated,
his thin images within still resides

the man of firm voice who when he spoke
above the rabble, all fell silent, and when he looked,
all could share his visionary insights and did not hesitate,
saying, we will do and we will listen,
but to follow, just did, wrapped
in your confidence

I want that boy back, smooth skinned, fearless,
do not return him till the shadows have dissipated,
the bruised lines of worry have evaporated,
the hands look unscathed, then raise them in
self-supplication, demanding satisfaction,
then in success, born overhead, marking appreciation,

let us adventure forth, straightening tilting windmills,
punishing renegades and dragons fearful,
saving damsels who waited just for our arrival,
shedding courage upon those who watch us,
cheering and being cheerful

here is your mighty pen,
cut sharp the poems out from the within,
read them slow, winding to now crooked old friends,
who remember everything dear, their youth of no fear,
the best of past, dreaming poems, mist born, fog vapor gone,
of black and waiting white, worthy words all revived

return to me in blazes,
sumptuous colors of derring-do,
I need that child brave, for perhaps
you have not noticed my flaking slivering skin,
the expanding cracks that cross my images,
just like you!

I need you to rebirth you,
I need you to rebirth me!”

I am a tiger and a fawn.
The she-wolf that screams to the moon at dusk
And the meadowlark that whistles to the sun at dawn.
I am darkness and I am light
Flipping my tangled hair to the cascading stars at night
Lifting my hands in prayer, releasing the morning birds to flight.
And I will protect them,
These birds of freedom.
I will carve their songs
Deeply into my heart
And set aside a space
Where the cruelty of this world
Cannot, ever, tear them apart.
So laugh my little children,
And sing your songs of glory,
You are safe
You are heard
And you are worthy.