Ordinarily I don’t publish so much poetry at Theoria-press, and instead try to provide mostly essays with an odd poem or sonnet occasionally interspersed among them. But the Muse’s visits have outstripped my ability to keep pace with prose pieces so readers who prefer essays should peruse the archives of this site, which are replete with them.
WHO inspires each blade of grass to grow?
whose commandment leaves each leaf unfurled?
who sends the rain and ice and snow?
who imparts the turning of the world?
who parts the curtain of the morning sky?
who strews and bedecks it out with clouds
like linen washings hung about to dry
upon a field that wingèd angels ploughed?
who establishes the realms of space
and who designs the patterns of the stars
that shine as diamonds on the night’s starred face
or glint like rubies in the case of Mars
who gathers up the scroll of history
and ties it together as with a bow
sealed with wax and stamp of mystery?
a power known as that by which we know
Upon the mirroring and turn we face
Each in His presence as there is no other’s grace
From Eve to morn and morn unto Eve
His light is shining wisdom’s weave
Be unto himself me and you are each christened by his will his love his logic imbued
Freed is the rest found in this His blessed holy spirit where goodness that blesses unfolds with every passing moment and minute
In this space of timelessness the shimmering light of His face finessed and becomes as all is His to enfold beyond and between the score unfinished but not untold
And in God speed upon them is seen His beloved and angelic His Eternal Flame and Companions sheen. 🕊️
Tat Tvam Asi