Whirlwind
The poor are never satisfied from their lacking,
the rich are never satisfied for their having:
poor and rich, rich and poor,
they are all leaves in a whirlwind.
A lovely face is but a leaf,
a brilliant mind is but a leaf,
a splendid feat is but a leaf,
in a whirlwind.
All your bluster blows away,
all your words are tossed in gale,
naught remains but a still small voice
and the whirlwind.
The wise are never satisfied for their wisdom,
the fools are never satisfied from their folly:
wise and fool, fool and wise,
they are all leaves in a whirlwind.
Songs and Visions
My eye is brilliant, born of sun,
your voice is rising, clear and sure,
the music great, a waking dream,
in gardens kissed by day.
Death is walking in our midst,
merciless in ruthless might;
I fear neither death nor hell
if but your song I hear.
You will sing of ancient lore
in sorrow's tune with ageless lay,
and I will weep beneath the stars
for visions I have seen.
You will touch the inmost heart
with holy words to make it whole,
and I will soar to farthest star
in visions that I see.
Ascending the Dionysian Hierarchy
Like the eyes in the wheels,
ever-turning,
fire-burning,
like catharsis in the heart,
refutation in the head,
a purity of light
shining brightly,
ending night,
and raising us up to --
vision!
Wisdom in the spirit,
splendor in the soul,
a breath of tongues of fire,
and wings of shining gold,
and clarity
and authority
meet in charity
descending from the truth,
which is seen ever clearer
like the sun drawing nearer
until, paper turning flame,
the burning of the name,
there is truth! --
and ever truth! --
and only truth! --
where, a galaxy of suns,
love unites
with the darkest light
truth and soul in one.
