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Where does man, where does woman, where does beast go
When slumber dawns upon their fleshly vessel?
When the twilit sky bleeds into a stygian veil?
When the musicality within begins to take psychosomatic form?
I reminisce over the eventuality that stirred my burgeoning.
It quaked my lucubrations, my excogitations, intellectualizations;
Ye, The Incendiary Phoenix Flame billows within. Rebirth awaits
every anima forged by The Apotheosis of The Astral Flame.

The doughty firebrand in me shalt nought surrender,
The Gaian Warrior within shall ne'er be forgotten,
And my reverenc'd doubts  shall be undone.
O, whence all incredulities have been uttered The Leadings of Lovelight shall prevail. The Vestige that once ravaged my remembrance shall vanish into The Magisterial Tides of Oblivion,
We are all one with the Blood-Tinged Oath, The Fulgent Daystar;
He, exhaled eternity into the souls vexed by mortality.

Underneath the Sun:
There breathes an azure vista.
What lieth above our aethereal aegis has incited inquisitiveness aeons aforetime
Open your hearts to the cosmic currents, the transcendent torrent,
The Communal Oneness of The Primal Phantasmagoric;
By that One,
For all time we were summoned.

Question what lie before to be spirited away.
  Listen to the arcadian zephyr whisper
              Through in, through out your every breath. Trust, the Sanctity of intuition.
Coloring the Changing of The Seasons.
The aqueous dew throngs upon virescent leaflets,
A fulgurant surge fulminates
Upon The Celestial’s bedarkened sky.

Red- Shift Existence: evidence, upon which a system of belief expands, under examination
Therefore, it is our duty to ponder the Legacy of the Sages
That we might unravel the esoteric secrets
That function as a key
In gainsaying, in overturning The Lock of Fallacy.
Finally we gain understanding, we acquire wisdom
Altering our cognitive trajectory.

What is Life,
What is Love,
What is Divinity,
Without creativity?
Without imagination?
Without vision?
We must all surrender to
The Sacral Expressions of Omnibenevolence.
Spirituality is a fleshly disorientation, a carnal discombobulation;
So, relinquish your dysphoric allegiance
With the pangs of hunger and malice.
Effloresce into The Luminary,
We Denizens of Light,
Were all
To be.

(Se' lah)

Excelsior Forevermore,

Sanders Maurice Foulke III
—Beneath the same sky,
We all exist.
We all love.  
We all pray.
One sky, one destiny, one spirit, one heart.
I’m a vagrant;
Betwixt two realms:
The Spirit,
The flesh;
Truth is arcane

Undefined variables in  
A paradoxical equation:  
Aberrant; abstract; anomalous;
Like a stellar black hole
Devouring the light of the stars.

Of Dereliction; desolation;
The Cloister of Trials remains unsolved.
As my fulfilled yearning, proves
Naught but lust;
Disappointment; depravity.

Somewhere, someone  
Bears the Key  
To this fragmented,
Sky-gazer's heart.

—Beneath the same sky,
We all exist.
We all love.  
We all pray.
One sky, one destiny, one spirit, one heart.

Chaos chastises, schism spurns,
My envenomed psyche is deluged by pain.
A torrent of trepidations, surges through my veins;
Yet, Couer reigns triumphant
Upon my Soul Scape.

Heavenward I gaze, importuning  
The Father of Celestial Lights
Perhaps this felled Paladin of Light
Canst gain solace in stillness,
Perhaps he can transcend the soulborne fight.

Yet and still,
Sorrow reigneth supreme,
Burnishes a fervid sting
Upon this Silenc’d Songbird’s
Requiem for a Dream.

He awaits salvation,
A transcendent beckoning
To rise, rise,
Like the diamonded Moon,
Absolving Nox ad Caelum

The Song in his Soul
Is a Paean of Lovelight,
Vanquishing the bedarkening veil
That is the
Shadow of sorrow.

There is no Light apart from Dark;
There is no Aether apart from Nether;
The Astral begets the Umbral.
All things are one.
(O, Chiaroscuro)

When anguish arrives,
Succumb not to the deathly pangs,
Rather, doven the aethers
That the Cosmo-Plexus of Empyreal Love  
Aegis thee.

We were conceived
Upon the Hierachy of Sacrality,
Her divine order is
A transcendent bounty
To those holy.

Apropos of Providence,
We burst into bloom
As Children of Freedom
Burgeoning aloft the soil of
The Gracious Gaian Mother.

The soul is a seed, sown in spirit, every struggle,
Every trial, every tribulation, bestows
The Eradia of Yggdrasil
Until we
Effloresce anew.

Fathom the thew in utterances,
Understand the sinew in silence,
Know that ye are precious;
Believe that
Ye art loved.

(Se’ lah)
Excelsior Forevermore,

Sanders Maurice Foulke III
Reverberations resound,
Airwaves surround,
The Holy Ethereal
Transcribes my Soul Sound.

I yearn for freedom,
I sing for heartsease,
I beseech the firmaments,
That musicality conceive
A New Dawn; Millenial Fawn;
Material-Realm Transcendence;
Spiritual Efflorescence,
O, my Spirit is hearkening unto
The Holy Dove's cathexis.

Write from your heart,
Sing from your soul,
Unravel the Perdition
Until The Vestibule of Lightness unfolds.

Dream in stratosphere;
Achieve upon The Terraqueous Plane;
Ascend The Earthen Spire;
Know we each bleed the same.
What is music without love?
What is Heaven without Hell?
The Elemental Legacy beckons you higher,
Legion fatidic arbiters conspire
Rendering self-sovereignty a liar.

Open your eyes,
Unfurl your heart,
Sing to the Aethers
That The Spirit never depart.

This is Musicality's Manifesto,
This is Destiny's Diminuendo;
Know the blaze, fathom the burn
Of unquenched ardor, unyielding zeal;
With passion within, ye
Shall never fail,
So pilgrimage Life's Mecca
Bearing its sacral travail.

(Se' lah)
Excelsior Forevermore,

Sanders Maurice Foulke III
I must trust that
Every flaw is a blessing
And with each set of imperfections
There will also be a set of advantages,
It’s the process of efflorescence
That creates such a painful dichotomy;
Blossoming is like an upward spiral of refinement
Extricating iniquity, thereby, heralding excellency.

The ego is a feeble sense of self-identification;
Therefore, I must aim higher,
Or aim to fail instead.
If forsooth, I fail to aim,
I will
Defeat by default
(Witherance in its wake).

Words become a lost art
In my odyssey; Without integrity,
The highest divine is futility.
Of Truth in this heart of mine
Acquisition always lies in action,
Motion creates energy
And energy is limitlessness
In what it creates & magnetizes.

When the static rises
I will relinquish my fears
Unto the Deific Divine,
All that quakes my heart,
All that thunders,
What Makes this Mind’s Sky tremulous
Shall be purged & undone
By the Holy Dove.

We all become deluged by darkness
& vexation, at these exhalations
Oblivion seems legion,
We lose our ability to hear
The voice within;
Yet, these oracular undulations,
Are our beckoning The Empyrean
For salvation.

Believe in The Arbiter Of Fates,
Fathom that His fatidic waves
Augur redemption to those
Iniquitously ordained; enclaved,
In the Visage of Shadows
You will come to know
The inviolable promise, that sacrosanct oath
Of aeonic, sempiternal, everlasting love.

(Se' lah)
(The Musicality of The Cosmos)




(The Infinite Heart)

~Limitedless Vibrations~

"Elysium of The Soul cometh to those who art stalwart in The Visage of The Shadows."

Contemplation is the genesis of enlightenment;
Therefore, trust
That every moment spent
Whilst ponderous with thought
Begets elucidation
The Womb of the Dawn.

~Wisdom comes to those who seek.~

Ever onward,

Comrades & Comradettes;


Know the hope in every glimpse of

The Visage of Shadows.

Excelsior Forevermore,

Sanders Maurice Foulke III
"By this all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love among yourselves.” (John 13:35) This commandment is The Messianic Dictum. Sometimes I wonder upon how far aloft my flight my zenith may lie. What dost the apex of my pilgrimage bear?

We all have a future. Love is the ultimate religion. Why? Because “It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.” (1st Corinthians 13: 7, 8) When we love, we taste eternity upon our palates. Love is the elixir of the soul.

When my life is over, I hope to gaze upon the visage of those who I hold dear. I want to know that I’ve made a difference in the lives of those encompassing me. We all carry subjective burdens, subjective blights. This suffering is the commonality of all creation.  Whence we ail together, The Catholicon of Ancients exalts us as one.

The Faith of Dreams is a worldwide denomination, within which we need fellowship. The Universe is our temple, our Cathedral of Dreams. Beneath the firmaments, we all have an abode.

We are all Sparks of the Divine. Fulgurant lovelight glistens in each one of us. The most bedarkened soul can house a diaphanous blaze of light. In light, there is darkness; moreover, in the night, there can reside light.

Dreams can still serve a purpose to the entity inhibited by a worldly lusting. Ultimately, desirelessness is catalyzed by cathexis to the Deifically Divine. We must cleanse ourselves of corporeal desires until we wax holy. “I dream; therefore, I am,” said the sage. If this is true, the substance, the essence, the elixir of life is in upon the Dreamscape.

In truth, any temporal expanse spent in The Chrysalis of the Astral is commensurable with augury. A dream is celestial summoning. Therefore, persevere amidst hardship, borne of tribulation is prophetic fulfillment.

(Se' lah)
---------------------------Dictum of Resurrection---------------------------
“Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.”

―Albert Einstein

-------------------------------From my-------------------------------


--------------------To Yours-----------------------

May Jah
Make you
Strong as He is Strong;
Wise, as He is Wise;
Just, as He is Just;
Love, as, '…God is love.'

(1st John 4: 8)

Excelsior Forevermore,

Sanders Maurice Foulke III
Poems are
Gift of raw
Talk to walk
Of past before

Life writes
Secrets down
Open door
Ink of hands

Hidden lines
Stuttered grinds
Question mark
Story rhymes

Favourite IF
Opened gift
Chorus Line
My poetry mind


is a word used seventy-four times in the bible.  The meaning of the word is not known, though various interpretations are given below.  It is probably an instruction on the reading of the text, something like *
"stop and listen."  The Amplified Bible translates selah as "pause, and think of that." Alternatively, selah may mean "forever," as it does in some places in the liturgy.  Another interpretation claims that selah comes from the primary Hebrew root word salah, meaning "to hang," and by implication, as in weighing, "to measure"

for Sethnicity

what trifle these
modern words,
hurled, expelled from the
no country for an old body,
without passport or
earnestness of purpose

the yeah yeah yeah filler
of day tourists who
leave their refuse,
never mark-making,
nor even  a mark of
minor distinctions

what mystery valued then in these
olden words,
of which,
there are the fewer than
precious few,
ineffable, multifarious meanings,
never wasted or with dispassion disgraced


as a young boy
parentally captive
was POW forced-marched
to synagogue daily,
then weekly,
and now,
free at last,
Oh Lord
free at last,

to go

now wanting immunity
for my sins
but asking only from myself
my own forgiveness,
still and well recall the
puzzlingly feeling of


explained the perpetually tired,
older father-man,
"it means forever,"
he who was wearily forever tired from voyaging
and living in a new, stressful,
inhospitable world

carrying in a single suitcase(1)
centuries of the continental drift of
global dispersal diaspora prior,
that cannot be well remembered,
only honored in the
forever recalling

but I disdain the explanation,
as if
would satisfy
a ne're satisfied,
irreverent, teenage curiosity

here I am
decades on,
remembering the mysterious


embracing its many personalities,
endearing now by its revealing opportunities,
and its suitability
in this,
in the the hour of
now me as the
elder father-grandfather

of a man's age of aging,
the approaching visible runway,
upon which you only land
and never takeoff,
during the phasing out period

and so I reconsider


and all its variants,
seventy four times

all those elders know too well,
there was never a


so you
stop and listen,
but not to your own heartbeats,
but to tue

poetic lapsing pauses,

the in betweens,
thinking on that
hope for next one Nat

taking your own measure,
the hanging up,
the weighing up
of the always imbalanced
credits and deficits,
accepting the net net
sum of
the totaling up

yet once more,
despite all,
the poet rises,
stands up,
stops to listen,
to give blessing to
you the reader

all poet's
welcomed progeny and prodigy,
hearing your crying hearts,
youngest wishes
and grinding familia of
familiar fears,
expressed so clear
in all your scripts,
over them,
over you

Amen ~ Selah

once again ,
one last time
telling it to God,
or anyone who'll listen,
with fervor

smiling inward
believing even more now
in the olden
specialized mysterious,
of a word
that means
exactly what you meant it
to mean,
when  your say


Oct 2, 2015
a poem written and stored away from a sense of
who will get this weary wariness... but I let it go because
it was
selah time

for Sethnicity

(1). he was a Fuller Brush Man
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