autumns symphonies – mirrors of a still undiscovered paradise ii

mirrors of a still undiscovered paradise

(an eastering meditation)

movement ii

“…When the ass saw the angel of YHVH,

it pressed close to the wall, crushing Balaam’s foot against it.

So Balaam beat his ass again…”

-Numbers 22:25


there is a meeting place where  contraries embrace expectations

where there are finite choices that transfigure all manner of creatures

while white wolves frolic as unblemished lambs amidst fluttering snowflakes


all those our mothers in heaven called saints teresa of avila

al die onze moeders in de hemel geroepen heiligen theresia van avila

tous ces nos mères dans le ciel appelés saints thérèse d’avila


all these our fathers in heaven called saint john of the cross

al die onze vaderen in de hemel geroepen heilige johannes van het kruis

tous ces nos pères dans le ciel appelé saint jean de la croix


are there meeting places in this yet undiscovered country

where spirit rides leviathan upon sapphire waters

and choirs of the turtledove shatter ignorance with beauty


our beloveds beckoning whisper all creatures home

onze geliefden wenkend fluisteren alle schepselen thuis

nos bien-aimés faisant signe murmure toutes les créatures la maison


so i arise a prophet crying amidst the wilderness the canticles of solomon

dus ik ontstaat een profeet huilen te midden van de woestijn het hooglied van salomo

donc je lève un prophète pleurer au milieu de la nature sauvage des cantiques de salomon


will there not be such lovers whose souls marry psyche and eros

whose spirit sails a transparent chariot of holy fire

whose harp charm nubian eurydice into golden orpheus’ arms


oh my beloveds beyond fullness shall we become creatures still again

oh mijn geliefden buiten volheid zullen wij geworden wezens een keertje

oh mes bien-aimés au-delà de la plénitude doivent nous devenir des créatures plus encore


shall not such dew as found on a desert rose never whet our lips

zal niet zoals dauw als gevonden op een roos woestijn nooit om onze lippen prikkelen

serai pas de nature rosée que l’on trouve sur une rose du désert jamais pour aiguiser nos lèvres


shall not that other mary the magdalene embracing unceasingly

eternally catching her beloved children’s silver tears treasuring

them in the infinite womb of her immaculate hart of sacred hart


as now so then and always such harmony shatters such our expectations


This entry was posted in Poetry, The Living Logos, The Path of the Sacred Warrior and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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