I am late, flying the long detour
blocked my usual path this morning
another scaffolding
rising to grab a pack of the sky

entering the building for work
I see a thousand blinding lights
each emblazoned
with many shades and colours
of the same words

'I want' 'Give me' 'Done yet?'
'Deadline'
'Give me' 'Give me' 'Talk to me'

echoing many times over

I cowered into my cabin
crawling into the cave
dug in through the wall

and hung upside down
like a bat

this is a yogic pose
mindfulness meditation
I'm seeking out solace

when did the week end?

Swaths of air answered
in a language of hushed silence,
spat down by a giant Catherine wheel
hung from the roof.

Deluge tears, the storm clouds engulfing the wide world,
none to steady the canoe on the Galilee;

This the dust-path yoked to the burden of our deed,
beaten for teaching love, up the hill of penitence:

for here we traded the Spirit for passing gain,
calumny for mercy, who showed us the mirror

bearing witness, the wind heaving in the silence
we handed him over to the lash and the crucifix,

Yet, inscrutable this love for an ungrateful world
that parts the seas, and calls to life our faith dead,

pouring down, a heavenly stream though undeserved
carrying us across in arks and covenants

When the winds got to the depths
they came alive, them embers
that I let smoulder
deep in the sacral chambers
bathed I returned in grace
but not before

I shouted out into the well
a fiery hymn
a flaming rant
empty now my soul
drenched in the echoes
each more tormenting
than before

this is how you lose it
this is how

The wave beating solitary on the shore
every once in an aeon, comes an hour
when the fuzzy bundle of timelines
must collapse to a certain certitude

Long hours of labours past the dark nights
that have borne their ends but not far
speak in hushed voices of defeat
and surrender, and dejection,
that it is all over and what else but

There, in the distance is a brewing morass
a descent into chaos and death, a war
that has no winner but the abyss

factions ranged, outweighed not by
their arms but destiny

that now threatens to ****** away everything
that a people fought to preserve memories of

on the  island where death rules the heart
this little patch of a shore
hidden away in the alcoves

the one hope of redemption

Here you are, holding court
in the sanctuary hewn of stone
in the depths of my hardened heart

I was searching  everywhere

ages congealed in the story of my quest
distant those memories flashing in lightning hues
when we made for you a throne in the skies
you were a king, being vast and a Son.
Fire,  light, word and the cosmos.
You grow with me,  beating with my heart.

so many tongues invented sacred,
each the supreme and the last perfect for all times
ending futile muted
that broke your icons but
fail to uncontain and unlimit your vast formlessness

Now after so much death and darkness

clad in the ashes of those endless cycles of dissolution
with your hosts, ghosts and goblins
in the silences sliced by cymbals and bells
at the pinnacle depths of being
Holding court here

Yes, I am the same God
that dwells among you
Grace incarnate
again and again
in times and among peoples
various as the stars

if that mighty being
beyond all description
but experience
ever begat anything
it is but me,
me, love and grace

wherever the heart shrinks
and tyranny reigns
and lust and greed
masquerade as law
into that parched desert
do I descend, when
Jordan baptizes the soul

Ichthys of God, I make twelve
the anglers of fisherfolk
who cast their nets wide
and catch me in their soul
so they can behold
Him, that I am,

no greater miracle than this
was ever made

Those ripples
spreading hope among the waves
in torrential despair

foreboding

right behind where I toil away
with all her ships and sails
hidden in her receptacle soul

broken them rudders
we're sinking
as I hold out a palm
for some cheer
to gather. Macabre.

The Ocean, she came to me
and sat silent in the jar
not a whisper of a wave.

lives, palimpsest soul
stepwell storms
revenant, re-sonant