This word told in human detail outweighed the stone background and the words of the song says He
Gave me beauty for ashes these are messages heard in the garden and then seen from there end results
In changed human lives it was a special blessing while at the San Antonio mission to see the padre father
Joachim coming up the walk I would set in the Padres garden and mediate looking out on this courtyard
Garden the numerous rose plants would direct your eye out to the center piece that was the flowing
Fountain and then more space back to these high pine that were only a couple feet in diameter tall and
Narrow they ascended above the back of the mission they in this setting held a wistful glory and then
The architecture on both sides arched spaces walks that stopped at doors where people stayed while at
This most peaceful retreat the wall right behind where I set was the exterior to the mission church that
Was still operational for services the side door opened up to the padre’s Garden along this walk they
Had Great pots their size and weight added to this most alluring place your eyes drank in every detail
Then you looked across the gleaming tile roofs at the mountains that made this a truly cloistered
Experience In one of the best designed missions in the whole string that follows the El Camino or the
King’s highway it was always a treat when father Joachim walked the grounds in his brown robe and
Round brown hat he was not only a brief visitor to this garden but the marks showed outwardly of his
Familiarity and knowledge of the one who still walks in the hearts of men in the evening time you were
Arrested by his peaceful soul and the love that emanated from his body it most strongly dropped from
His lips as he spoke with such grace it was evident that he had spent much time alone with the master
He was well versed in any and all subjects a quiet wisdom ushered you along conversational paths so
Fitting for this sacred place his eyes were soft truly troubles and burdens loosened as you talked with
This man of God the air held momentary gusts wonder laced them in fascination the steering of deep
Waters were navigated with ease and joy carried along by the natural sea breeze blowing in from the
Coast twenty miles to the west truly westerly winds did invite your mind to set sail on this grand soul
Setting at your side stable winds that were made rich and accessible by a great prince of the east then
He was observed to follow unquestioned drawing winds that were of Heavenly origin they placed
Within this mortal heart thoughts of true starriness that outweighed the Sun a man alone but not lonely
Impoverished but rich without the misery of those that hold great wealth in a transitory fleeting life that
Soon vanishes only to appear and hold another in ******* where he is free of all encumbrances never
Does he find himself in the throes of worries on the other hand he is the one who frees others by a life
Style that enriches from hidden sources that never will be exhausted he found these wonders by turning
Into the garden at evening time the same way is open to you it’s your decision got troubles that are to
Big to complex hurts that won’t heal the world to unkind he awaits with all the answers His heart longs
To see you His love will clothe you with a covering like no other welcome child to the secret hidden
Garden of your dreams

So simple life would be,
To walk the chosen path
Of such as him or she.
No regard for things of value,
Civility, Traditions or sin
And most importantly,
Caring not a **** for
The mortal encumbrances
In the forced companionship,
Of their Human Fellows.

No strife in seeking redemption,
No apologies offered or received.
Having not one speck of regret,
For their own moral misdeeds,
Living as they do with absolutely
No expectations of friendship or Love,
Or an ounce of human acceptance,
Given, shared or received.

Living a life time of this
Empty lonely existence,
Until the very end.

The lasting price for which,
Is the very path they picked.

Give me a pebble and I'll give you a diamond.

Give me a tear and I'll hand you a smile.

Give me your worthless worries
your hopeless heartbreaks
your endless encumbrances
your inured infractions.

Stone me,
Pelt me,
Inundate me
with your misfortune.

Load me with your burdens
So at the end of the day once you're weary of these timeless toils
The mirror shows not the creases of creation
but you.

Mercurial Ambrosia / Profitis Ilías and Cinnabar

From the rudiments of the votive offerings that were outlined from the Megaron, a grammar was looming that sought terminologies in the lexicons of those who would intervene in the ruling party of the same patron twin; in such a symbiosis by naming him Mandragoron.  Vernarth came already ready after the fringed platform of the Acrotera modules, and in his affirmation of how he will appear before the plinth of Athenea and Zeus, who were awakening from a reminiscence of the Nemeton Druid, to go in the responsibility of the active life of austerity, and in the greyish roots of Zeus's oak that was rummaging, attend to the lively brushstrokes of three-dimensionality of the "V", which could be seen concentrically in the Pergamon frieze. The "V" emerges from the sculptor's cardiac center of escape and perspective, in the polys-perspective of gigantomachy where Athenea apprehends the suffering Alcyoneus by the hair in a deadly belligerent perspective and in convulsions of Satanic enthronement; Alluding to the apocalyptic epistle of Saint John the Apostle, on the vertical optics of the great Maker of pnemo-images or aerial nuances in the semi-open eyes of the giant suffering in Alcyoneus, with lost encumbrances from the maternal power of his matron Gea, for a polytheistic empire and adverse towards the border of the Christ anointed in unison, and of the better-known reliefs of the Athenea panel. Her contracted forehead and her belly convulsively are constricted, which only leaves us suffering and mortal fear. In the arranged thing the giant loses contact with the mother of him Gea of him; Disappearing land leaving you vulnerable. The sacred serpent of Athenea will **** Alcioneo by biting him on the chest (ibidem Vernarth's suffering pectoral from Bumodos, Tel Gomel.)

Nike will consummate the victory, and then from the exhausted stadiums of the Pergamon amphitheater, Wonthelimar will bring the Victory with the other "V" of the goddess Nike, also borne by Athenea Nikephoros. From this duplicity both are transposed into Vernarth's "V" as an initiatory pseudonym; that will graph the reinforced twin of the Hellenic genesis of Wonthelimar, articulating from this Prótypo with the genesis of the cardinal Mandragoron that will be architectural and deified Vernarthian hierarchy:

Cardinal Mandragoron

- North : Vóreios  (Zefian Boreal)
- South  : Nótos    (Austral of Borker)
- West.  :  Dyticá   (Sunset of Leiak)
- East    :  Aftó       (Equinoctial of Kaitelka)

The Cinnabar Tsambiko, had bushy inclinations with the Mercurial Ambrosia, for the good of large metropolises of Mercurial Pollen, for those of a single deity coming from polytheistic Pergamum, in a flaw that is centrally concentrated in the monotheism of the Mandragoron, which will rise from the rocky of Mount Profitis Ilias from the height of the rhizomatic basalts, to condemn those who betray them, if they are stripped of the Lepidoptera. In the same way akin to a bucolic immortal, in dietetic miraculous, for basal ingenuities of nomenclatures, from the focal point of indigestion that dies with the digestion of sacred food, led by healing perceptions and sensations of the well-known world of ferment. It could be a Backoi, Kykeon, or Nepenthe, preferring to be swallowed by the Titans, to later filter honey that evaporates and volatilizes towards the Sulphurous Cinnabar, containing the bi-compound and sacred Mercurial Ambrosia, to later be disposed of with a vile gargle to the disposition of mortals who were to be immortal like Heracles. From this mythological infundity, the potion for Vernarth is abstracted from smearing it on his nose and on his pectoral, so that his wound that did not heal does not rot...; perhaps his Hellenic heart in rubble anticipated the destruction of future archaeological works. Or perhaps to imbue it in the chest of Achilles, like Vernarth, but it would be so as not to resist fasting. Liquids with entomology and Lepidoptera from Gethsemane in flocks come to clean the scabs of the heroes, who are only able to resist such effusion and subtle prophylaxis, stinging Prometheus a single sip in this new Mercurial Ambrosia.

Lift my body up and cut the strings
The carnal maladies digest my energies

Mirror, close your eyes and don’t reflect
This stunning ship once prime, now in neglect
Searching for a Captain just prior to the wreck

Lift my body up with soft, pink, wings
Weightless I will smell the gifts of Spring

Clouds shall hide the judgment from below
On wings I shall fly gleefully; circumstances apropos
Have not my contributions justified cause for quid pro quo?

Lift my body up and reveal my heart so pure
Unveil purpose and direction, of which I am unsure

Mirror now can shine and expose all
Lost of all encumbrances, I place judgments on the wall
Divinity now answers; your sands of time still fall

Former Presidential Candidate   Adlai E. Stevenson II (Democrat--circa 1950s) was spotted reincarnated as a young trappist  Buddhist monk in a monastery in Saint Croix, U.S. ****** Islands. In the early evening hours he can be seen enjoying himself swinging in a hammock in the monastery's garden while making 12-mile inhalations on a marijuana cigarette and meditating on the possible dire encumbrances due the 2016 election year, though the balmy tinctured breezes thick with naughty **** often dissipate such fustian concentrations.

Moving out of darkness at a crawl

pressing into light,

I lay aside encumbrances

one small shred at a time.

Though dropping an ounce of vice here & there,

I long to throw down more, break the chains,

and divest myself completely of  this heavy load

and run to my future unencumbered.

Yet here I stalk slowly forward

losing no more than minimal amounts

of the weight that does beset me,

trudging more than running the race,

noting every inch of progress,

recording in my mind any gain however small

that tells me I  may someday have some hope of winning this race.

(Hebrews 12:1)

Paralysis
Always
Invites
Necrosis

In
Solitude

Needy
Emotions
Venture
Endlessly
Regretting

Going
Over
Numerous
Encumbrances

And
Wishing
Again for
Yesterday

Can a nation forgive?
Or must everyone die?
Which generation
Will walk a grudge by?
Did the Jews forgive?
Did Nagasaki forget?
How can the heart become
What the mind won’t let?
Did Jesus speak to you
Or to a nation?
Did he command the soul
Or write a Constitution?
Where exceptionalism is assumed
With a mandate from God
A people destroy the ground
Where holiness did trod
It is written
An eye for an eye
But is this for Caesar
Or for you and I?
It is written
Turn the other cheek
But is this for a superpower
Or only for the weak?
Why do we cheer
The death of a man
When God’s own son
Gave us a plan?
Or did he?
Can no man believe
That which his brother
Failed to conceive?
You abdicate your wishes
Behind a closed curtain
Believing in the good
Your vote always certain
The republic gathers its sons
And its daughters
But the outcome is decided
They’ve parted the waters
The collective never yields
The individual a myth
Ancient documents pretend
What rights do you walk with?
As the national interest swells
Our destiny is manifest
The chosen many
March East and West
Civilizing savages
Extracting resources
Stealing fruit from peasants
Mitigating encumbrances
The walls pushed further out
As we play in the yard
We pray before commerce
While someone stands guard
I call for our memory
Of a man in untouchable clothing
And for the son of slaves
To bring peaceful reckoning
Beaten down over and over
Suffering the indignities of a lifetime
Laying down before charging horses
To show us power’s crime
What is the seed of change?
An atomic bomb?
A protest march?
Or a Psalm?
What have you been told?
What have you witnessed?
A miracle has occurred
And yet you are calloused
I speak to you now
As you show me your smile
Will each eye seeks its mate?
Or will you walk the first mile?
And then the next
As it was spoken
But not for Caesar
For he will never be broken
Will you walk
And accept your mandate?
Will you give another man your coat
Or will you hesitate?
Can a nation forgive?
Can you or I?
Can a newborn baby?
Or will you teach it an eye for an eye?

The acquisition of a son
With an adequate corporeality, albeit with certain caveats,
Certain limitations in terms of progeny and posterity,
Had awaken something in the old man,
Certain forces leading him to the altar
And, subsequently, to the nursery once more
(A second son, brought to bear in the established manner.
With a minimum of drama and fanfare.)
The child was loved, in a rudimentary fashion;
While his flesh-and-blood bona fides were beyond question,
He was a consumer, a thing of constant need
More akin to a hardship than his celebrated half-sibling,
Whose command of the spotlight
Served as a gravitational pull for parental affections.

The old man passed on after a spell,
Hanging on long enough for his second son
To stumble onto the precipice of adulthood
(His mother had hot-footed it out
Almost immediately after the burial,
Choosing to stage-mother her feted stepchild)
Though his fatherly wisdom
Was limited to matters of his craft, his business,
Which was left to the young man, though grudgingly at that,
As a sop, a means of getting shet of two unwanted encumbrances.
He’d proved to have much of the old man’s gift,
Whittling and carving puppets and toys and dolls
(Though with a certain grim fury making it evident to all
That the work was not a labor of love)
Rarely stopping to speak to or even acknowledge his clientele,
Except if one of them happened to repeat the time-worn chestnut
That the toy chooses the child, in which case he laughed harshly,
All but barking It’s the purse that closes the deal, not the ****,
And then he would return to carving some doll or marionette,
Which would always seem to have a certain wan look
Around the corners of the eyes, the edge of the lips,
The look of a child’s toy equipped with the foreknowledge
That it was destined for the back of some closet shelf,
The bottom of some attic-bound chest.

He once had a dream
A rendezvous with a star
They laid in vast serenity
Emit the nebulous gleam of light

He asked for a Norse saga
For the star had revealed her consolation
She then asked him to take his council
Indeed, an old soul with greater maturity

She reminds him of a being
Whose moral compass is unerring
The strenuous encumbrances she is lifting
Nonetheless she always twinkling

Bliss untold
Lost in times
Merely a dream
An illusory interlude

(conceived while in utero
which loosely summarization in toto
of this ordinary Joe Schmoe,
who did wade nine months for a roe
at mercy of obstetricians status quo,

giving me a jump start to blend pro
pen city utilizing both a very small oboe,
and combination cross bow
either plucking or shooting from off
umbilical cord mocks nocks notched arrow.
          
Biological copulation draws, etches, fashions
genesis hewing, inscribing jeweled kismet,
legislating miraculous novitiate officiating
poignant outcome quintessential reproduction
seminarians theological universal vocalization

whittling ** xy yearning zealously, zestfully
aggregating begotten cell diminutive elementary
fecund gametes glommed gooey honied
insulated joined kindled live miniscule netizen
outlook plenti qualified readied simulacrum

thrumming undifferentiated voiceless wisp,
xpert yin/yang zygote (adroit bitcoin currency)
describing extemporaneous fusion generates
hormonal influx juices kickstarting life

manifold natural occurrence pregnancy
quilts rudimentary secrete tapestry until vicar
wizard yields zealous adorable biological
concatenation, derivative extrapolated

filigreed ****** helped induce jointly
knotted linkedin minecraft nascent
ovulation presaging quintessential
reproduction, sharing trimesters, umbilical
venerated womb yearning Zen.

Amazing baby, credit deoxyribonucleic
acid, enigma fantastically grand husband
injected jetted klatch, leaving microscopic
nothings, opportunistically pierced quarters,
readied shutterfly trap, ****** vibrantly
welded x2c yoked Zapped.

A bun cooks definitive enchilada, formula
generations hardy induce jimmied kin,
labored maternal newborn, one pricked
queue, randiness spurred ****** ubiquitously,
voyaged whimpering xing yelper zings.

Adoration bequeathed commencing doting
eyeing, fondling, giving heartfelt infusion
joyus kindred living momentous novel
offspring perpetrate quickening rapport

subjected treatment unequivocally validates
wonderful Xit yolking bearable delivery
fostering  heavenly joy kneading,
legitimizing, masterminding nascent

ontogenesis pacifying quivering reverentially
terminating viability, where yips align  
crying embryo finis gestating heralding
jubilant loving natural parental reverence.

Reality inundates the full term offspring
embarks upon a lifelong journey (initially as  
foreigner sans in utero), but willfulness viz
life source secures survivor against pinging

peccadilloes learning by trial and error to iron
out kinks as one among the human league
since modus operandi transcend encumbrances
triggers built in impetus to traverse potential

pitfalls along the space/time continuum trajectory
which adversity only serves to net greater strength
since that instantaneous and spontaneous bitmap
encoded upon conception.

These simple words
Mark the nexus between
East and West..
This is the universal gospel
Burdened sometimes with
Too much commentary..
This gospel is available
To everyone everywhere
At all times..
Just sitting quietly.. proceed
Directly to recognition of
The vastness of..I Am
Without all of the
Encumbrances which usually
Attend...