Every once in a while, there comes along a vision.
A vision that makes everything worthwhile.
A kind of clarity, and strength that makes the doable acts reverb through the fabric that usually just simpers to even our greater twines.
Once in a while, muscle memory collects in a reflex to better harmony than we’re used to. Where all of this is merely a calmer reflection of the creative reverb.
The creatrix of a smiling swerve.
In time, pragmatism will come calling. Aspirations will fall away like a twirling spectacle of conscious recalling from lucid memory in a haze of quiet contemplation.
Visions of virtue will settle for the mechanics of logic’s stumbling abodes.
But the measure sings to melody in the emotive matches and passion infuses on-song. Grace hums along.
The notion enacts its belong.
A steady accumulation to a rapid spectrum.
In the quotations of influence and ovations of understanding.
Unravelled opportune in providence’s propensity of boons.
A mind’s reflection in the moon, and all of its satellite sighs.
verse
Hymn of her
The glorious mention,
mine humility your grace.
The meeting of the old gods.
The understanding of the new ones.
The richness of form in thy adorn.
What chance may stir,
where emotions not weep.
That fall on man, laid upon,
the shoulder notwithstanding.
The burdens deep, thy gloom,
turning the spheres, at once evolving.
In every Nadi’s (streaming) teem, at forever’s embrace.
In all the seams, the holier traced.
That thine in strength in mere of my might,
No more ere mortal, corrected to insight.
Yours in the powers that move, the heavens,
the earth, evened to the oddities all the starry powers twined to groove.
That thine is of the soul of the world, yet no more the distant two to move, consorted then, custodian to grace.
Behooved, not to doom but in planetary sway, a greater boon to a gentler swoon.
The tides of unrest forever’s coil,
charted and enshrined in hearts that convey.
A mere descends,
to entwine in tabernacles.
A stairway to mend,
peace be unshackled.
Footsteps cannot reach where is thine to earth,
Yet of all sweet revelling are your mirth.
Man knows not his own heart,
and only to vanity rends hand his heart.
Form whence the ancient world passed in fervent.
Such was the day to the endless sights to your grace.
Vied to face, in every trace.
Coulds’t the man look upon himself to glorify.
Unseen to all other gods unless yours of reverence allied.
Such was the age of the new universe.
A luminous darkness and the spirit to fire.
Ever calling upon the soul of man.
In his, in hers, in forever’s to voice, the privilege of a deity’s faith to find.
Beyond all things known, grace to show for it.
Lifting star and spirit, an optimist of sentiment.
Aspired and evolving, inspired in sacrament.
In afterglow to divine a poet, for the firmament.