Mater et Magistra
Flowing through you,
illuminating,
sublime,
flowing from one to many,
subtle yet intelligible,
is a swiftly moving stream:
benevolent, comforting, gentle,
direct, expansive, irresistible,
friendly, benevolent, kind,
strong and all-enduring.
Think of such subtle essence:
nothing intrudes save pure light,
the breath of divine activity,
the pure stream of effulgence,
from Almighty God, who knows no stain.
You are the radiant glow of eternal light,
the shining mirror of His glory,
the flawless image of His goodness.
Your glory is thus brighter than the sun,
more splendid than all stars.
I compare you to the light,
but the light is dim beside you,
for light must contend with darkness,
but what turmoil can overthrow you,
whose Head is the Lamb upon the Throne?
Nothing is beyond such sovereignty;
nothing is hidden from such vision;
no living mind can be unpierced by your truth.
How wonderful is your sweep from end to end;
great your proclamation unto all the world;
everywhere your order of grace is manifested.
Alone and in yourself, you do all things;
renewing all things, you are unchanged;
ancient and imposing, you converse with saints,
as friend to friend,
loving with friendship no one else.
Enchantment
I look out on a golden sunlight
bathing with bliss the grass and trees,
and through the bough a wind is flowing;
there is a god among the leaves.
We live by clock and stable season;
it flows, or so we think, in lines,
but, turn and twist, we envision freely
and think in imaginary time.
The darkest backward and abysm
I rotate outward into light
and at this time I travel sideways
and in a moment live a life.
Naiads in winding brooks are singing,
complex numbers their beat in time,
with quaternions on their noted scales
and turnings in their signs.
Enchanted isle is all around you,
but you on factious byways strode
and jawed, and voted, paid sacrifices,
a Caliban with a drunkard-god.
A tempest brought you to this shoreline,
cast you up on mercy's womb,
but you tied your soul to resentful vengeance,
trading humanity for a tome,
writing your plaints in the oaken blood
to cast a spell on your own mind;
but lo! your thought, an airy spirit,
may yet undo the chains that bind.
I look out on a golden sunlight;
piano music fills the breeze
and journeys in my spirit's power
to stranger lands and richer seas.
Shake off slumber, now awaken,
the cloud-capped towers are soaring high;
below, the green sea rumbles softly,
above, the azure vaults now sigh.
The incantations, the calculations,
I make as though they were a gift,
octonions of soul enchanting
as I turn quest to noble risk.
Purple-clad stars may rise in evening
and, amber-vested, retire at day,
but stars within are ever shining:
they blossom, bloom, and never fade.
