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Apr 2019
Sophia descends the cotton-white corridor
That icy Reason shall be more than celebrated;
Descends to remind that all is nothingness,
That a thing of beauty is not a joy forever,
Nor an evil as evil as it appears,
Flowing dried leaves into balletic swirls,
Forming peaceful choirs of phantom snow,
And lays her Robe of Grace upon the human soil,
And smiles her return to the stars.

The people, saddened by her silken flight,
Strangely droop in awe, unable to perceive
The merciful white of Her Light and Robe.
"Why has She abandoned us? Where is our globe?
Why are we frenzied, and waltz with unease
As the wind whispers its snowy requiem to the trees?
We are captive in a crowded room, all alone,
In a hysterical white of cubic monotone.
Oh Sophia, airy Wisdom, where and why have You flown?
We forever try and forever fail, ever bent to beg,
Like frustrated clowns playing Ping-Pong with an egg."

The bubbling of orange words shakes their sky:
"What of eternal Chaos that dances out its infant star?
Knowing the dance, how then can you and eternity be very far?
Why make false beliefs the extensions of your simple eyes
When simple physics tells you to rationalize?
To be divinely free and never alone,
You must see the dancing love in a slate of stone.
The star, the human, the insect - all are children of wonderment
Disguised in differing degrees of order or arrangement.
A whiter soul cannot be nor come about;
It unveils itself slowly, slowly sheds its doubt.
Since it has no corners, why imagine a room?
Why allow illusion to nurture your gloom?
Yet trapped by the senses and desires, your minds blindly spin and spin,
Hearing nothing save the tremulous sad persistence of a violin..."

The scattered Night darts their room;
Blades of blue skate on the walls, assuming the karmic Womb.
"What are we but puppets, animated dross?
What else but white-eyed gory dogs having seizures on the cross?
Let us be children playing with their Eden smiles,
Bouncing their dreams against the walls,
Melting away imagined corners with their inner Eye
To follow the long-evasive Butterfly.
Let us glide through the Light that laughs on the shimmering green,
Till dissolved into the Boundless of blue serene.

For we long have dreamt and dreamt
of drowning stars in the fathomless water
As its mirroring azure surface slept,
And felt as though each breath of space overhead
Had leapt.
We have dreamt of luminous globes in the nightly sky -
Each a receding echo of the Word,
Each space between the center breathing undisturbed -
And we cried, 'At last, no questions left to crucify!',
But woke to the dead surprise of the material dream,
Resuming our doubt and asking of many a useless theme.

Could we shun the beauty of a material thing?
Or shun the temptation to cling,
Knowing things come and things pass away
Under the bliss of God's eternal play?
Seeing these shadows undress
To reveal tranquillity and a little less?
Could we do our duties and not digress,
Waiting dumb and numb for God to bless?
No! Let's not wait for answers from the sky,
Nor attempt to squeeze Coca-Cola from a cow,
But rest content within the Self, gazing beyond the Fly
That diverts our Eye from the Now.
Let's fix our minds on the moment and be free,
Acting unattached in pristine clarity.
Clear... calm,
We shall become but music of the Halo's breath,
Unheard to those who only hear the bird."
This poem is included in my book "I Have Been Moved", which is available on Amazon for as little as 14 dollars (paperback). It was written in 1995, when I was 21.
Yacov Mitchenko
Written by
Yacov Mitchenko
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