He walked through Time,
the Word of God.
And, as you would expect, that Word, so singular,
so heavy with Glory,
ordered all thought and language around it,
before and after it and on the sides of it.
Language, the speaking of it and the thinking of it
coalesced around Him – Person and Word –
by Him I see the River and know it for Water,
through Him the snow is snow,
in Him Light of Light.
My heart breathes Light
and speaks thought,
the Word stablishing sentence,
Witness speaking Truth.
I saw Him coming,
so did you,
the Advent.
Bind up the testimony, seal the law among my disciples.
We half-men without chests, who suffer little
and wish once a day we could stand with the martyrs
and pray like saints but move no mountains,
We who cannot converse without taking our Benicar
and have ideas only when wroth or avarice impel them,
we who will not be meek or merciful,
we who would hunger for Lincolns and poll numbers
and find righteousness a bit too off-putting for consultants,
we who are supremely not poor in a land
where the poor are relatively rich
and the rich are essentially poor
and ours is thus not the Kingdom,
Who have given up on making peace
and are not persecuted and never will be
and might not be greatly rewarded
for "reward" is forgotten
and so is heaven.
We have our spirits that are familiar,
the sitcoms and reality shows, the podcasts
and talking heads in high def
and our wizards that peep, chirp and tweet
and mutter along the banner
below at screen's edge,
should not a people seek unto their God?
for the living unto the dead?
Nevertheless, the Prophet said,
the Law is sealed among us
and by the Testimony are we bound.
The Child comes always as surprise,
the Word is ever marvelous to our eyes.
I saw Him coming in the familiar words,
the distant reports from voices recorded in echoed, scratchy conversations
and dusty mildewed leather tomes,
and videos or memories I can't tell which,
cyber-sot, mental-tot that I am.
I saw Him coming through Time
stablishing Peace, manifest Beauty,
breathing breeze of Memory,
assembling words in sentence,
stanza, trope and story:
the Word was with God,
the Word was God.
And, singular Lord, overturning the damn tables
of decadent, degenerate religious economies,
or is it economic religions? I can't tell which,
cyber, mental, I am.
All through Time,
I see Him walking,
so do you,
the Advent.
Assyrians are all around us,
throw up your arms, they will not go away.
Phoenicians have indentured us,
and the Gnostics and Nestorians,
the Arians and Monothelites and Calabrians,
and the revisionistic historians,
have quite convinced us, cyber and mental,
that the Star is but a star,
the Son is but a son,
the God-Man but a man,
if ever He was
Except, they say,
just an extrapolation from a single cell organism
quite the zillion years ago.
But, He is.
Baby God
I an unwise man
adore You
I kneel in Your gold array
and bring You myrrh for Your savior-dying
and frankincense for Your resurrection
and its constant shining
in theanthropurgic cult, everlasting,
Where there shines
in wind like the leaves
the rule of faith, braided
with beatitude and mystery.
Lead us O Lord on paths of righteousness,
grow us into childlike wonder again,
unto our first, under the banner of Love.
Make us meek, make us pine
for earth and mystery,
heaven and peace,
When we go back to our towns in the Decapolis,
into the urban dispensation
of no memory and autistic morphology,
insulae of microwaves and microtels
urls not girls, funs not sons, bothers not fathers,
others and certainly not mothers.
You are the Son of God,
Time God on us.
You are the Sun of Man,
Shine manhood on us.
And give us peace.
He walked through Time,
the Word of God.
I saw Him coming,
so did you.
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