Devotion

Competing Cash crackles in waves to create the third

I will let you down / I will make you hurt

‘Come and see’ and I saw and behold a white horse 

the divine principle.

And in my mind that white horse is less resonant than La Pieta, when I summon resurrection — which only some of us do.

Some of us make and others life happens to. Death, sex, gestation, rebirth, transformation. Awakening in flames again. Love always wakes the dragon, and suddenly, flames everywhere. I am not the dragon; I am the dew that carpets the forest, the bead of sweat on his temple. Others still dream lotus-drunk of a faith that’s an illusion and are as loyal as that faith allows. Sacrilegious Unholy City that cuts the water off during Ramadan and hospitalises children with dehydration. Children! Like Ivan Karamazov, if the suffering of little children is worth the sum of suffering necessary for the acquisition of truth, I affirm from now on that truth is not worth such a price! But I couldn’t persist in my indignation, even if I were wrong. That’s why there are eyes in my sockets, not pearls. Mon semblable, mon frere,  I’m a spin or two ahead surely — watch me flicker like a stolen torch with turning. You might learn a trick or two. You may even win a prize.

And while there’s a white horse on the horizon, multiple wash my feet on the beach. One Mary weeps, one is empty handed in the garden, and one is Christ’s companion, more beloved than all his disciples, who he kissed on the mouth. The silence of your pillow that’s incomprehensible is the utterance of my name. You grasp the lotus and you crush it — you hold your palm flat and it blows away, like a parting kiss.