To Believe Dead Sonnets and Haiku flambé Poetry is dead and literature sucks We all want something to believe in So here’s a duck! Kenny A. Chaffin – 5/11/2011
Truth, Goodness, and Beauty “Reason and passion merge into love, too, When truth, goodness, and beauty new Make their rendezvous.” “Love is made up of truth, Goodness, and beauty, the proof— All three are clearly seen within its roof.” “They’re intertwined as the eternal triad, Woven into the perfect romantic braid As its weft, warp, and wave made.” “And yet they’re each different aspects Of the same in ALL respects.” “For example?” “When a deep truth is intensely sown And stripped of all its clothes, Then what is left is its beauty known.” “Beauty is the reality of truth’s meaning. Would this be the name of the rose’s gleaming?” “I don’t know, but beauty blooms, for sooth, As it were, like a rose from the soil of truth.” “To know beauty, one must also know sorrow, thee, For if you’re alive enough to experience beauty, Then you’re also vulnerable enough, wholly, To be exposed to its opposite twin of melancholy.” “If we lived as figures in a painting few, Then we would never have to Face the death or sadness due.” “That may not be so great as it seems, but less, For what is deathless is also lifeless.” “Once I had a beautiful love with a person. It was painful when it ended yon. My reason’s light began to depart. Blackness was rising in me, dark, Beginning to snuff out my spark.” “What did you do?” “Well, I gave the feelings their due. I duly visited the shrine of sorrow. There I found, inseparable from truth, no less, The beauty that had given rise to my sadness. Upon realizing that row, Rhythms soon rose from the depths of sorrow. I began to sing and celebrate the very song’s throw Whose sweetness had broken my morrow.” “So, the haze couldn’t derail The brightness that it veiled?” “No, it couldn’t, even though a dark foggy sea Had sunk and swelled all through me.” “Your love, beauty, and joy so fine, Flowed like rays of sunshine?” “Yes, and burned the misty veil Until warmth on me prevailed.” “You’re a positive thinker one.” “It showed where my love and caring had gone.” ( Love Equals Love Divided by Infinity ) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UURYASQmFZw
The Lights of the Deep Still awake, they looked up into the night sky. He began to formulate a poetic theory of life on high. “Somewhere out there, among those ploys, Deep in the vast darkroom of the endless void, Is the eternal light from which we flashed into being— Exhibiting all of our color and grace seeing. Like a prismatic lens, from afar, We strain the white lights of the stars Into the rainbows of our lives that are, As the poet Shelley has alluded to, as the bar.” “And here we shine as such! A long way from the stars, us, Born from stardust.” “And all those stars burning out there, They are the fires of home, the where!” “Some legends cry That the stars are goblets in the sky, Placed there on high So we can taste Heaven’s drink when we die.” “We have many myths and legends of the sky, But, while we talk, hope, dream, and fly, The stars shine on, heedless of where we lie— Long after we die.” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQI84DaUbjQ
The ‘Answer’ That is Just a Larger Question He looked up at the stars and clouds And began to wonder some thoughts aloud. “The one metaphysical question That people have always asked is, ‘Where did it all come from, dear?’ However, there are no simple answers.” “First, let us think of what we know, Or even what we think that we know: Either matter is eternal and it has always existed In some form or potential, persisted, Or it somehow balances into being, out of nowhere. Both propositions are equally difficult to answer. All we can be expected to know is that we are here. As all else may be just conjecture, And is therefore before and/or beyond thought— Being merely aforethought and afterthought.” “But, people keep thinking about its delves, And sometimes they fool themselves Into thinking that they have found the answer To the ultimate question od ‘why are we here’” “How do they do that?” “Well, they beg the question’s pitch, By proposing a mysterious solution, which, Though seemingly satisfying, at first, Only introduces a deeper question’s thirst That is larger than, although similar to the first one, The original question.” “For example?” “Well, because the Earth is so complex And because the life process Is not readily and completely understandable, They believe Earth and life have a Designer, some people.” “The Earth couldn’t just simply be here, being, Without any such Designer, meaning a Being?” “Well, it could be, actually, as would be the norm. What I mean is that it could have been formed By natural laws from the eternal matter That you mentioned before the latter, But people still feel, or perhaps just strongly wish, here, That the Earth should have an origin from a Designer. After all, effects do seem to usually have causation, Do they not, though a Being raises a similar question; For if life requires Life before it’s due, Then that would be true of God’s Life, too.” “Well, either matter could have formed itself Or it could have always have been on the shelf!” “True enough, but people feel, since gladdened, That this could never have happened, For they ‘reason’, of course, That all things must have a divine source. God is their solution, the beginning course.” “You mean a creative deity? A super being?” “Yes, and the other good thing about their solution Is that it gives them something to look forward on— A divine destiny in Heaven, a reward— Something that is quite desirable, of course-ward.” “That solution is a gigantic step to One, But an understandable one.” “True, but people still have a tendency To assign divinity For what they do not understand completely. Thousands of years ago, they decided, The gods were to have resided On the highest mountain tops of Olympus’ rises.” “Until people climbed those mountains, bare, Seeing no gods up there.” “Yes, and so then the gods were relegated To more distant and Heavenly realms, gated, Such as the sun and the moon, But were not found there either, very soon. But, we’re getting off the subject’s rune.” “Well, I may believe in laws and states By which the universe naturally operates, Due to the interrelations of magnetic swirlings, Electric, and atomic forces and such whirrings, But that’s not the God to which you’re referring.” “Right, I’m referring to a conscious super being’s worth, The supposed creator of Heaven and Earth. You’re referring to the life principle’s list That is part and parcel of all that exists, The very force of existence itself that persists— A force that’s here eternally, Although we ourselves may not be.” “So, God created matter and energy and all that is?” “So they say.” “But where did God come from?” “Well, either he always existed as something Or he was created from nothing.” “Or both, since it is said that he made himself.” “But, of course, the dogma; So now we’re right back to the original dilemma.” “Ah, they have begged the question!” “Yes, they’ve ‘answered’ the question By proposing a much more difficult question.” “True; to summarize the bet: They weren’t willing to accept That all the matter and energy of the universe Could have formed itself or always have been first, So they said that God created it from some sod; But then they easily accepted the fact that God, Who is way more complex than the universe, Formed himself or always had been in the lurch!” “Right, the solution to the larger problem Is exactly the solution That they refused to accept to the smaller problem In the first place’s constitution. A needless extra step was introduced, really, An extra complexity, unnecessarily.” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rgsaqVtGlAM
The Awakening Here’s a collective of one line each, rhyming couplets: (lets join in one movement for science, for truth) The misty mountain was drenched in droplets, (for the world is covered by life and proof) Which reflected rainbows of light (the potential of which is bright at length) Showing the particolors lone and bright. (this diversity itself being the strength) Beneath the mountain a dark presence lurked, (for history has a demon lurking) And so on down from the summit they searched. (so belief not being enough of the searching the source of the truth must be sought over preaching) Through tunnels dark the Elders flew fast, (the learned humans looked on with fervor) As thus they could surprise what it hast. (seeking to topple entrenched belief going further) Dark tongued demon's shrill call cuts, (the relinquishment of power is not given easily by fools) As then they froze to best locate those zealots (stop, look, and listen to the world to find the tools) Gouged out brainpans, they hung in blooded cathedrals, (violence of the indoctrinated flows back into history’s thrall, and still hangs on, feasting on the minds of the vulnerable) We ascendant to locating the highest installs. (hark, the rise of science upon high, the road of truth sets the scene of nigh) The elementals melt before the Phalanx of Truth's transcendency, (religion that gave birth to and parented the being's beginnings is routed by the truths that disprove their ongoing relevance) As the ever-present, wishful fantasy remains for them to fancy. (freed of the control of belief the ideas of gods go on forever to inspire the minds and imaginations) The final act sees a city of diamond flourish below the world, (the sharpest, brightest and strongest finally build the technologically advanced existence they knew they could) The shimmering and glittering radiations of light unfurled. (thrusting out into the unknown the humanoids begin a final journey of enlightenment. A sway of the universe is sure) The performance is now over its tasks; The artists have taken off their masks. The illusion is fading; it cannot last; The scenes behind are appearing fast. Once the scenery is burnt out back On the bonfires of religious tradition’s rack, And the embers have cooled of their prefects, Up from the ashes will rise a bird so free and perfect That its beauty will cut through the miasmal dew Formed steam of false parade to inspire more than a few Of the burnt-out-nest dwellers to curlicue upwards On the heated thermal of the firebird’s (a)wake(ning). The End/Beginning
Original edit/inspiration. (actually was a home-truth at the time, though went straight over the opposer's head. The Gig IS Up The performance is over. The artists have taken off their masks. The illusion is fading. Once the scenery is burnt out back on the bonfires of religious tradition, and the embers have cooled, up from the ashes will rise a bird so free and perfect; its beauty to cut through the miasmal dew-formed steam of false parade will inspire the burnt-out-nest dwellers to curlicue upwards on the heated thermal of the firebirds (a)wake(ning).
Original: Yellow Mist Yellow mist floating, its rarity deadly, furling flections pointing down mouths and, wet lungs and bleeding, slowly filling, with a “hoff”, a cough, another piece lost. This way is misleading for those still breathing, will not breathe, yet the frost under foot soothes, as men pant coolly, as chemical burns. I lived for my whole life time, rasping and searching for a breath. The day I should have fallen went on and on. I can’t see past my body, I look as far as my death but cannot see further. The love I have still burns yet I can’t breathe, can never breathe, will never breathe again. My great grandson asked me: “Did you die grandy?” So I told him, as my consciousness drifted in and out of the battlefield, that he was but a dream I had while… I was dying. Rising up to the sky I felt all of my children, possibilities taken? Where I went to I don’t know, sometimes all I see is whiteness, and someone says: “Hey you. How are you?” I never quite know how to answer, because at once I had lost and gained so much. I still smile though as I did when I fell that day, yellow teeth gritted, looking for security. The love still runs deep, for all that came after, fulfilment of dreams. My comrades still watch me smiling, their wide smiles stretching my patience, but I still love life. As we all dance together, my breathing eases, and now… yes, I can see "my happy place". Time will always be with us, but I don’t care anymore, I am free now. I still taste the gas, my love breathes deeply of it, for all it has given me. I will not go back.
Religion “However, after all this sum, We still don’t know where the universe came from.” “True, all we really know for sure of cause Is that we’re here and that there are laws And forces, and life principles Which have and may continue To allow the universe to operate, a few, In the consistent and stable fashion That we can know and see in our ration.” “Well, we’ll just have to listen to our own intuition.” “It’s all we have to go on.” “Is the super being, if there is one, A good, bad, or an indifferent One?” “It is assumed that he is good, But there’s no reason he couldn’t be bad. But, again, it’s merely conjecture To ascribe human emotions lectured To a being who may well be above all that. Some religions say that He’s both bountiful and vengeful, That his love is conditional; That is, either we obey his laws’ tell, Or he’ll punish and torture us in Hell. And that he destroys life by his will, As in the Great Flood still.” “And that he allows the Devil to exist to tempt us?” “Yes, maybe, as they say or invent, So we can earn our place in Heaven sent.” “You mean, or rather, Some religions say that God shaped our human nature, And then introduced temptations to our nature, And then intends to punish us merely for being human?” “So they say, of our acumen, Although you’ve pointed out The absurdity of its doubt.” “Anyway, the gods of all religions here Don’t have the same character.” “How do religions know any of this stuff anyway?” “Well, the founders of many of the various religions Claim to have had divine inspirations, Through visions and visitations With God himself’s instantiations. Unfortunately, for them, God told them each something different; Thus the existence of the Catholics, Lutherans, Moslems, Jews, and Mormons. There must be hundreds of religions, All claiming by divine inspiration That they and their myth region Are the one and only true path to Heaven, And that all the others are false and should be dead, Or so they heard from the voices in their heads.” “Well, since they all contradict each other, zany, How do we know which is the right one, if any?” “We don’t; it’s hard to sort it all out, the fuss. There’s Buddha, Mohammed, Jesus And some other prophets among us— Telling us of places like Hell, Heaven, Purgatory, nirvana, etc., and other havens. These are all major differences in beliefs!” “And some eastern ‘religions’ don’t even mention God’ shove. They’re based more on the idea of a life principle of love. It being ingrained in all things, from below, not above.” “And some western religions say and cry That God must be adored and glorified And bowed down to; it’s not fun. But again, this may just be one Of man’s own emotional inventions From what he’s used to, as convention.” “Well, if I were a god and ruled above, You could take away all of my powers but love!” “That’s very ingenious and generous of you, ‘God’— But, of course, love means generosity’s sod; We have no use for an unloving God” “And then there are the Polynesians, The Indonesians, and the Melanesians. They have elaborate superstitions And beliefs in good and evil spirits riven, And how to obtain a higher place in Heaven.” “Which isn’t really too different, say, From most religions of today.” “True, but doesn’t the end. the gleams, Sometimes justify the means, For most religions advocate goodness. Jesus preached that we should give love, blessed, And kindness to our fellows and all the rest, Just like the Buddha taught, and the Son. And the Virgin Mary was a good person, Though some religions don’t believe in her son.” “Yes, those are good policies for anyone to follow, Anytime, regardless of religion or belief that’s hollow. I live them. You live them. It’s pleasant. Jesus was good, but his father wasn’t.” “Religion is good for certain borderline people; It can nudge them toward the steeple— To the way of being good people. Unfortunately, it can also blind them, Brainwash them, and bias them.” “How so?” “Well, when one believes in something very deeply, One tends to become intolerant of those with other beliefs, Even good ones, because allowance of other beliefs Seems to lessen the credibility of one’s own belief.” “Then so it is that Moslem children, so sure, Learn at a young age to dislike the yore Of the Jewish people and their culture.” “Yes, that’s part of it, for, It’s the differences between cultures that starts wars, And there have been plenty of religious differences That have started wars and clashes.” “Such as the Protestants vs. the Catholics in Ireland, The Sikhs vs. the Hindus in India’s land, The Jewish persecution, the Wars of the Crusades, The Shiites vs. the Sunnis in Persia, the rage.” “So, like anything else, Religions are neither good nor bad themselves, But that human selves Only make them so themselves.” “One is free to believe as one chooses, from the list, But there will always be some know-it-all evangelist Trying to convince us otherwise, the blessed fist.” “Maybe we should put all the evangelists, Preachers, solicitors, and their gists Into one room and let them all talk amidst.” “At first, each would be convinced of their fight, That beyond a doubt that they were right.” “Yes, they would spit and spat, But soon they’d all see that The others were convinced, also, at that, Then perhaps they might realize that Their beliefs were arbitrary— Being dependent mostly On their parents’ religion or region of birth, And realize that they, if born elsewhere else first Or under other circumstances, Might espouse different beliefs, of the random chances.” “Well, my dear, you’ve come a long way for a nun.” “As you, for a monk, have come.” ( Myth-takes ) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMnSnlQDlwA
The golden dome of Sancta Sophia shone, Along Saint Austin’s journey from olden Rome, It reflecting the flaxen sun’s blonding band, He unto Britain to spread the Word to England. Saint Gregory, who was to have gone this far from home Had been elected Pope and so was recalled to the throne. Saint Austin was ever a lively and wandering monk— A French-Italian nun packed forth into his trunk. A carrier pigeon flew the latest to Austin’s leg, From his friend the Pope, known to him as Greg: “We shall conquer not with our Papal Army’s spear, But with the requisite Christianity, dear within its fear.” Saint Austin was taking his time, seeing all the sights, With the nun ever out of her habit during the nights. It was like Google’s stunning street level view, http://9-eyes.com/ They observing everything first hand as always new.
The Jinn of Earth and Fire The Jinn of Earth and Fire In the heat the harsh dunes quiver in a mirage day of forgetful dreaming, The Empty Quarter visits the fevered watered dreams of swallowed souls. Alas for the traveler lost in this waste, to die before a vision of bountiful seas, mad to the sands liquid eloquence. But in the night ergs sleep and murmur, bowed backed beneath their sister the moon. Whose barren face smiles in airless approval of her heated brother. Down these steep dunes we rolled entwined, our love mixed upon this sterile ground, and then she played a song to one born of a smokeless fire. And the whirlwind careened and cracked to notes and lilts of a Sufi pipe; lifting from the haunted waste arose the Jinn our love remade. And the Jinn of fire and earth whispers the deserts empty curse that love alone till dawn can lift, to pass beyond the serpent’s gate.
Good Job SM. Here's one from me today..still fiddling with it a bit. A Nose Up The experts say the nose knows Apparently the sense of smell two hundred million years ago was the first four-footed step pushing our tiny peanut brains to bigger and better things And Darwinian evolution being what it is by any other name rose to the occasion. Kenny A. Chaffin – 5/20/11
Adams Apple Powers that be, will you help me? Sometimes the danger is hard to see, And all I want is to be able to see, The demon that lurks unbridled in me. In some the devilry is covered by flesh, And the naked eye finds it hard to assess, But even if beauty behaves at its best, Adams apple can protrude from the flesh. Sometime you find you’ve done something wrong, Sometimes you feel you no longer belong, But if you force through the pressure and throng and give a song, Then to belong won't feel wrong. Emerge from your cloud with a smile on your face, Catch thirst for life with warm embrace, And use it on which a good life to base, Then everyone with you troubles will face. Exorcise demons that live in your mind, Exercise your body leave frailty behind, Give love to others, be gentle and kind, And respect for yourself will follow behind. Do not be tempted by forbidden delight, Even if the cherry is juicy in sight, Or Adams apple puts up a fight, Force temptation into the night, And to you will come pleasure in a natural light.
A Memory so cherished. Gone forever the broken, flinted, dusty road, into a new world I passed, dodging the claws of bracken’s brethren, moving silently through the mist, My breath caught sight of itself, whistling whispers, with the elegant pines that dizzied me, I twirled as they turned. Flashing beams, warmed my face, A sprinkling of sparkling from frosty clothes, closed my eyes, their lids like geometric roses, cascaded to the ballet above, I swayed in silence, cold knees creaking softly, as the trees danced, hissing their whispers in my ears. Listening between the sunbeams, my heart beat felt strong to me, the whoosing of blood fading into the background, There was no interruption of pace, as the deer leaped by, their file storing away my breathe, causing my heart to leak into the forest, lost forever. When I close my eyes, roses return a gift to my heart, The treads of secret animal tracks, emblazoned there, twist my yearning, I cry as I did then, the memory of my knees on the blanket of pine needles, sobbing silently, my tears froze in time.
The golden dome of Sancta Sophia shone, Along Saint Austin’s journey from olden Rome, It reflecting the flaxen sun’s blonding band, He unto Britain to spread the Word to England. Saint Gregory, who was to have gone this far from home Had been elected Pope and so was recalled to the throne. Saint Austin was ever a lively and wandering monk— A French-Italian nun packed forth into his trunk. A carrier pigeon flew the latest to Austin’s leg, From his friend the Pope, known to him as Greg: “We shall conquer not with our Papal Army’s spear, But with the requisite Christianity, dear within its fear.” Saint Austin was taking his time, seeing all the sights, With the nun ever out of her habit during the nights. It was like Google’s stunning street level view, http://9-eyes.com/ They observing everything first hand as always new. The world turns, shadows fly, energy spreads apace, Consolidating here and there, not an impatient race. Muslims crash the gates, and now new Rome is cleft, A prism of many-splendored light is all that’s left. Austin mends his detour, and through the forest flies, Recalling Galileo’s last look unto the starry skies. Sister Angelina lifts her cup, the alpha and the omega, And they raise their growing minds to the mirror of Vega. Once the great Roman Empire was everywhere known, The center of Earth the center of the solar system’s home, But now the saints walked along, bearing the world alone, Yet life and play must precede their spreading of the tome. They would be gone for over twenty years, but not forty, For they would ask directions, unlike Moses and his party. God had sent a plague to Europe, it killing one in three, But none for a year now, yet they dallied one more, to see.
Here and Now “So, perhaps Heaven’s promise is bereft, But I’m not at all distressed. I can’t know all the secrets, just me, So I’ve dismissed the dream of immortality, Although I certainly wouldn’t mind having it. For now, I live life with gratitude, the best fit, And accept whatever is left of It.” “Me too. I’ve said my good-byes To faith’s dream of forever skies. I am, of course, much too philosophical to be bitter. Like you, I am resigned to its flitters. I, too, accept, with hunger and joy and pleasure, What is left of the dream, whatever.” “People like to wish and dream afar And believe that they are more than they are, That they deserve a divine destination, That they are special among all creation. It’s only natural to desire something good, Although it’s greedy, perhaps, and not good.” “Of course, but the ultimate humility Would be to know that there may be no divine destiny, That we are all just fancy electrochemical organisms, And very much a part of the natural organic world-isms.” “All I know is that we’re an expression Of some life principle or life-force done, That comes from some mysterious source giving. This I can know because we are indeed living. Whether the force is conscious or not, perforce, Or what it’s like, I do not know,of course. All I can do now is flow with that force.” “Me, too, for when I go against the flow, There is only pain and suffering to go. Instincts, intuition, and natural urges Must exist for a reason. So, I listen to their words.” “Rather than struggling against the way things are, One must become the way things are, Giving oneself to the moving whole, as we are, And flowing with it, often very far.” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Go38jw_hbQ
The golden dome of Sancta Sophia shone, Along Saint Austin’s journey from olden Rome, It reflecting the flaxen sun’s blonding band, He unto Britain to spread the Word to England. Saint Gregory, who was to have gone this far from home Had been elected Pope and so was recalled to the throne. Saint Austin was ever a lively and wandering monk— A French-Italian nun packed forth into his trunk. A carrier pigeon flew the latest to Austin’s leg, From his friend the Pope, known to him as Greg: “We shall conquer not with our Papal Army’s spear, But with the requisite Christianity, dear within its fear.” Saint Austin was taking his time, seeing all the sights, With the nun ever out of her habit during the nights. It was like Google’s stunning street level view, http://9-eyes.com/ They observing everything first hand as always new. The world turns, shadows fly, energy spreads apace, Consolidating here and there, not an impatient race. Muslims crash the gates, and now new Rome is cleft, A prism of many-splendored light is all that’s left. Austin mends his detour, and through the forest flies, Recalling Galileo’s last look unto the starry skies. Sister Angelina lifts her cup, the alpha and the omega, And they raise their growing minds to the mirror of Vega. Once the great Roman Empire was everywhere known, The center of Earth the center of the solar system’s home, But now the saints walked along, bearing the world alone, Yet life and play must precede their spreading of the tome. They would be gone for over twenty years, but not forty, For they would ask directions, unlike Moses and his party. God had sent a plague to Europe, it killing one in three, But none for a year now, yet they dallied one more, to see. The alps were climbed, soaring into the realm of Heaven, And so they stuck their heads up into that glorious haven, But soon ducked them back down again, just in time, For there was a big soccer game going on in that clime. Did they have to bring the invisibility disorder unto Britain, Until all the rampaging residents there were by it smitten? Why should claims of unknown essence precede existence, Of what good would this hardy toil bring to the persistence? In France they lay among the harvested grape crops, Loving and squeezing out the best and last drops. All was so lush and green, this world as seen, And so they lived of life and love in-between. Pope Gregory was a scientist through and through, Sending them to spread the word of God all anew, Gregory’s continuing cover over gathering resources To manage all of his realistic experimental courses. Many years later they took a boat across the channel, Arriving in the mixed up country of heathen rebels, And then thought, if weakness can be turned to strengthness, Then we have to tell ourselves that's another weakness. Oh there was ever the word of the ancients to pass on, Although we tend to scoff at the beliefs of the ancients, yon. But we can't scoff at them personally, you do see, To their faces, and this is what annoys you and me. However, the first thing I learned was to forgive myself. Then I told myself, that self of my more learned self, Go ahead and do whatever you want, it's okay by me. For there is this lovely parentheses here within eternity. Life is a constant battle between the heart and the brain, Fought amid the bright sun, the darkness, and the rain, Pondering that and that, what be, on and on anon, But guess who always wins. It’s ever the skeleton. Yet this is the story of Saint Austin who wholly brought fore, Christendom to England, although they don’t like it anymore. Religion will eventually fade, yes, but in the interim It will change, an initiation of its slide into oblivion. The stodgy elevation of doctrine over ethics Will no longer carry the day, and there will be less Emphasis on believing, and more on belonging. All will become more democratic, with much singing. And then when Saint Austin came to his staff And pulled it out of the earth, onto the path, Incontinent by the might of our Lord’s mountain, [what!] Sourded and sprang there soon a fair well or fountain. He and all were bathed of clear and flowing water’s sip Which refreshed him well and all his fellowship. [What a relief.] His staff was cured and he ever guarded it more closely, And so the years went by, alive and well with being, mostly. Saint Austin then returned to Rome and its discussion forum Twenty years later, as forty would have been too long for him. Pope Gregory welcomed him, “Has it been so very long, my friend?” “Yes, for I stopped to smell all the roses along the way, to no end.” “Good. So, we have conquered Britain wide and long Through our Christianity’s deep and probing prong. Rather than with our Papal armies that are long since gone?” “Yes, it has been done, at least until Darwin comes along.” “I see that you long ago posted about the flagellum to Leskey, Eliminating Behe’s claim to good old irreducible complexity.” “Yes, it’s very old hat now, and one can find it on Google:” http://www.toequest.com/forum/intelligent-design/2502-science-versus-god-58.html#post64152 “And good old Behe didn’t come through, so high, At the Dover trials either. Well, so much for that guy.” “Yes, and now the believers don’t want to believe it, What I said about existence just because I said it.” “The idea is that they only address the ideas presented, For proof or refutal, not worry about who it represented.” “Yes. So what’s new in this territory?” “I’m now finishing my inflation theory.” “Inflation was so rapid that the particles in pairs Of the always temporarily emitted virtuals there Were forced to become separated from one another, With some then to remain as enduring, rather.” “And so they made a universe! That does it then; it’s the last verse. I’m declaring it infallible, a snap, Even before the next WMAP!” “The Bible will be seen to be of but human construction, A result of human instinct, frailty, fear, and no wisdom, And people actively speaking to each other, with laughter, Will come to replace those passive readings from scripture.” “May the quest be with you, too, the life and the fun.” “Let’s go have some beers and smokes with the nuns.” “Tobacco hasn’t been invented yet, oh, darn it.” “Ok, let’s go down to the lab and work on it.” (Finis)
The Loving Couple “Well, here we are—living a loving relationship.” “Back in the monastery I thought a lot About our developing relationship’s plot. Once, I stayed up all night, thinking it free, But getting nowhere. Then it suddenly came to me, And I found serenity and delight— I’d discovered that only the heart-light Can know what’s right.” “Men and women cannot exist in isolation, For the nature of one makes necessary the other one. One cannot have the valley without the mountain. Lo, when men and women join in love, There is wholeness again, below and above. So, the laws of celibacy are artificial scripture, For they very much go against nature.” “Follow your natural urges. It’s not natural to suppress a natural urge.” “Yes, it takes a strong desire to overcome desire. It’s a paradoxical and self defeating desire.” “Come to me!” First they touched, then embraced and held, freeing, Then began to merge, snuggling into each other’s being, Blending in ways that had no name, Completely transcending the physical plane, As if they could both occupy the same spaceness. Mind, heart, soul, and body were all of a oneness. They drifted in the blackness, Floating through the universe above, Suspended by their love. There was no past, no future; There was only NOW, for sure. “Where does the rose bloom?” she asked. “In loving hearts,” he answered. “Which roses last the longest?” she asked. “Roses last when they grow steadily and slowly, For, if their growth is too quick to pass, Then they will wither very fast.” She opened her cloak to take him in, warmly, And they embraced lovingly, longingly, and thoroughly. They felt the unlimited power of the universe. She felt that she held the entire cosmos within her. They were weightless, warm, and together, Drifting up through the forest weather. There were no reference points, no hedges, No walls, borders, or rough edges. They became one as they floated heavenward, Drifting through the clouds afterward. “You have enclosed my universe,” “Yet it is still a boundless verse.” “You have filled the universe that I enclose, as us.” “I will fill that emptiness with my fullness.” “I will empty your fullness with my emptiness.” “What ‘is not’ is equally as great as what ‘is’.” “We are equal partners in life and love’s loan.” The monk and the nun cannot live by bread alone.” “Celibacy is a crime against nature. One might as well stop eating, or not breathing air, Or shun any other such natural function’s rapture.” “When opposites are of a balance, The edges of all things dissolve and distance; Time and space become as one; All dimensions are transcended, done.” “Yes, everything melts into everything, Yet remains as itself to sing.” “All is of a piece, yet, all is interconnected and related.” “Yes, all things are interrelated effects; Opposites are merely different aspects Of the same phenomenon— A tear and a smile, light and dark, man and woman.” “As equal partners, in any instance, Men and women may achieve a perfect balance.” “The tide of love supports us and carries us along with it.” “We are carried together down the mountain stream To rejoin the sea, for therein lies the completed dream. Life is a diamond, a rainbow of many colors.” “Human beings need each other, Especially in nunneries And monasteries.” “Body and spirit cannot be separated, For they are integral parts of the humans related— They must operate in tandem To make the being human.” They are inseparable, unlike water and oil. It is as the flower’s toil— Drawing life’s spirit from the soil.” “A man and a woman are drawn together By the same urge that’s between root and flower, Leaf and soil, breath and wind, bud and scent, Sun and water, star and planet.” “Man and woman cannot exist alone; The nature of one requires the other one;. When they join in love, wholeness is done.” “Like the Yang and the Yon, The man is in the woman And the woman is in the man.” “From the hardness of the world’s sallies, A man comes to the valley Of the soft mountains To be overcome by woman.” “She is the roundness of Earth and moon, Warm with promise, ever in bloom.” “The valley and the mountain still Each make the other possible; They are opposites, but just in name, Since they are really one and the same.” “My words to you are a faint echo Of what my heart truly feels as so.” “What ‘is’ and what ‘is not’ combine to make wholeness.” “Love is lived by lovers. They come together, Like mountain and valley, rain and river, Air and mist, Earth and moon, forever.” “Yes, they go with the flow, as told, And give themselves to the moving whole.” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=veUia763qjo
