After Christ

A CORPSE ADDRESSES THE QUESTION OF LIFE

TO AN INVISIBLE THOUGH NOT

NECESSARILY FANTASTICAL GOD

Like Jesus, I too have been slumming it
In the material world, and looking
For the elixir to this sunken flesh.
I have not found it in so many words.
Listen no more to mind-altering words:
At worst, they betray what is real; and at best,
Merely deceive. Hear the truth unspoken.
And turn your back on the form with meaning -
The wood-turned urn is a vessel of ash.
Reject the tense silence of the sentence.
Let the words collapse, or disperse, or fall
Into an unholy heap for a spark
To ignite. Observe the frail smoke rising
In a desert sunk to a grain of sand.

Let us admit we have amused ourselves
In the pursuit of nothing as something
For the void can adopt disguises; rainbows
Are scarves that unwrap in an empty sky,
And scattered stars, the ignis fatuus of
So many lives. Let us, at least, accept
That all of time we have been looking west.
The armies of death are pitted against
One another, death in the womb and death
In the grave, death in the beginning and
Death in the end. The end, a forever.
Let us say that we have stumbled upon
A shuddering moment. The eyes open,
Receiving the light, assembling the form
In silence, even as a raised finger
Makes a significant sign with the lips pursed.

Reviews

[Ken e Bujold]

very well said John. insightful and inspiring without any sense of pontificating. I love the ending, the image of a stern looking deity kind of lost out in my mind to that of a rather peevish librarian shushing the gaggle of teens laughing in the back corner of the study room

[John]

Yes, Ken, a lot of shushing the back of the room with this one.