Sunday, July 4, 2010



I hold in my hands

Air and hope


My faithless heart cries for deliverance--
Its prayer for strength
Unworthy and unclean--
Yet supplicating
In resistance to despair
Even at the risk
Of being called
By the fear of others--


Revealed in the
Sacred quarters
Of our holiest privacy--

The Creator
Outcast by
God's creatures themselves


Hung time and again
On my own cross
This time it took--

Writhing in dark rooms
Like a monk
In his cell

Praying to the blackness
In melodramatic
Postures of self-regard--

This time I broke
In the torment
Of struggle--

This time
Contrition and
Penance were one--

It was finally no wonder
The slow dawn found
A prostrate form

Perforated as with
Stigmata and invisible eyes
Regarding it with relief--

The soul unhung
From its cross and leaving
Its stations of enlightenment--

This time it took--


As long as
You are
In the ills
Of creation
You'll be
At the mercy
Of karma

As long as
You are
At the mercy
Of karma
Then evil
Will always
Seem to be an
Of God's


My ordeal's reached
The flashpoint

I will break
Either down or through--
"He who hesitates is lost"
I hesitate
"He who would save his life
Must lose it"
I cling and lose--

Cannot go begging Christ--
My miseries are nothing compared
To the load he endured--

No help coming
Or deserved if this desolation
Is in the service of justice--

Opportunities for
Amendment are passing
And I know only
One lament
One prayer
One action
Torn from my heart
Every other minute
Of every single day--

Mea culpa


One slow destructive
Step at a time
Led me into
This swamp of passionate wrong

One slow constructive
Step at a time
Will lead me out--
Even if the trudge takes

The rest of this bug-bitten life


Our ordeals shatter us
To make us whole--
We must trust then
In the Master Craftsman

There are so many missing pieces
We could never find and repair--


The sky is slowly clearing
The drenching damage beneath
Sloshing quietly in the ripples
Of survivors wading
Numbed by the harsh cleansing

As the soft sun casts pale gold
Spangles on these waters
And the ruins of our false hopes
Misdirected desires and mistaken

Floating face down after the tempest


Service in the endless air of creation
The aether crowded with souls
Prayers for all of us
Against our own evil
God's Grace pours out increasingly
With each faithful syllable

On this side of the veil we look
At the empty blue sky
In silent awe
And imagine it--


A new world has been born

No miracles attended this birth--
Conduct did not alter greatly--
Many were disappointed
Expecting the Will of God made
Openly manifest like a light show

Whatever the calamities yet to come
To whatever crushing lives yet to make amends
The material world remains the snare
It has always been--

Cosmically the vibrations may be higher
Sharper from the shifting of the age
The understanding a little deeper and thus
The responsibility a little greater--

But the earthly imperatives remain ever despite
A new world born--

Far far yet is the Great Unification--

Girt yourself--
More profound than joy
Is the weary blessing
To a new age begun--


Spirit feet
Walk that
Perpetual road

Look at what
Lies ahead--

Learning again
To learn again
What was learned--

Movements of
Spirit in the
Awareness of

The soul--
Turning it
In renewed hope

Away from
Its prodigal
Sum of error

And onward
Still to the
Truth of its

Love in the
Authenticity of
Its amendment

With no rest
In all creation
Until all is

Set right


I'm waiting to be
Consumed in fire like Elijah
I'm waiting to be
Lifted in a wheeling smoke to heaven
I'm waiting to be
Raised up beyond the seven stars

I'm waiting to be


Setting sun

Round accomplished
Night sparkling
In the breath of Thought--

Sigh wearily
Welcome the wierd--

The stumbling
Of a wraecca

Outside the gates

[End of PART IX.]

Content (c) 2008-2010 Philip Milito.

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