transcendence

after the night of raging winds,

in the morning I head out to the street

and see a million paper cards 

scattered everywhere by the wind 

with the word transendence written 

on each one of them.

the howling wind still races along the street

and its alleys, challenging my mortality,

my transcience, my ephemerality.

oh that I could live forever upon this earth

but I cannot, and the screaming taunt 

of approaching death haunts me.

I take a breath above the waves,

immerse myself in God,

and I am under the waters again -

ICTHUS meaning fish, swims within 

the deep waters, immersed in God -

and so I try to imitate Christ.

I immerse myself in God again,

and continue to write

cities named after me,

books written about me,

and legends spoken

in hushed whispers

about me

all this do I imagine,

in my desire to be remembered

and in my fear of being forgotten.

supposedly pulchritudinous breadcrumbs

in lettered form in these desultory

rambling poems, all leading to one

single yearning of the heart, 

to tell posterity that I was once here.

what egoism what hubris what pride

to have thought that I could have

etch my name forever on the shores of time.

by nightfall the waves of death break through

and wash my name away as if I never were here at all

we all fail the test of time even the ever famous ones,

and we will live on only by virtue of charity

if we have had any in this short day on earth.

death is imminent. every step I take 

is one step closer, to that door that leads to God's embrace.

3 billion seconds they say is all we have on average.

every second gone is one second closer to eternity.

one second, one step closer to You.

I, mortal man, terrified of oblivion

I, mortal man, trying to transcend 

transcience and time

I, mortal man. with immortal soul.

like a diamond amidst the dust

for in the evening of life like the falling autumn leaves,

I too fall, I join the soil, and 

this frail dust that I am to dust returns.

and my soul would live on 

in the fullness of life only in God's embrace

I search everywhere, without realizing,

for meaning, for power, 

for glory, for fame,

to somehow be remembered forever,

to somehow be the greatest of them all,

but my search is always in vain.

it merely deepens the emptiness.

    I can find

        transcendence 

            only in God

Church Going

we go to church to have a good time,

to feel good about ourselves,

to feel happy and entertained.

we go to ward off the guilt.

we go in shorts and comfortable t-shirts,

and cheap slippers,

because we are going as if to a picnic,

to the park, to the beach.

it is the only Sunday we have and we want

to make most of it. we could have gone

to the movies, or to the mall, or to the food court instead,

and yet we've come here,

so remember that. we're using up precious time for this,

and we expect it to be worth it. 

so while you're up there, Father, make sure

to say a few jokes and keep us entertained.

we don't want to be bored. and also

tell us that God loves us in spite of what we've done.

now don't start preaching about sin,

we don't want to be feeling bad about ourselves 

when we leave this place.

and it's fine if we're a bit late to Mass, okay,

we are busy people,

don't start telling us off for that.

we will be early for interviews, movie shows, and for lunches with friends,

because those things matter,

but we might be a bit tardy for church

as it doesn't matter as much.

because it's all about us

    it's all about us

        it's all about us

            and not about God

indeed, it's not like we really need to be here -

it's the 21st century and we are at last truly enlightened.

we have our phones. we have technology. we have ai.

we are adults and do not take baby steps anymore.

we tell ourselves, we can walk without God

    until

        we

            can't 

Beyond the myriad of grumbling voices,

In the tabernacle of the Church,

In the Most Blessed Sacrament

Of the Holy Eucharist,

Wherein is contained the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Christ,

Wherein is contained all the riches of the Church,

Wherein is contained the hidden elusive treaure 

That all the universe desperately yearns for,

Before Whom kings, warriors, and noblemen genuflect - 

In this Most Blessed Sacrament,

The Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe -

Revered by the angels of the celestial courts

But not honoured by busier men -

Weeps and weeps and weeps,

As men distract themselves from 

The purest gold and diamonds,

By playing in the mud.

His blessèd Heart, hurt and wounded

By a million arrows from mankind on every side,

Bleeds and bleeds and bleeds for mankind.

Like a prisoner in his own palace,

Like a beggar in his own kingdom,

This King humbly, quietly asks for your love.

What do you say?

The Contagion of a Smile

and I asked them stonecutters,

"mates, when ye engrave ma name

in yon tombstone,

could ya put an exclamation mark after my name

and maybe a picture of me

as a young lad

with a wide, wide smile?"

in life and in death,

I want to smile widely

and see the smile

spread like a plague

from me to my neighbours, 

to everyone in my town,

to everyone who lives.

joy for everyone, none excepting

wind on the trees beside the road

I heard Your voice whispering,

gently, gently,

through the wind blowing

amongst the trees

as the leaves rustled sweetly

You said I love you,

and with the wind and the trees

and all the rustling leaves,

I whispered back

I love You too

of dust and clay and blood and bone

and silently I said unto Him:

my Jesus who loves me

like mad, like mad,

I beg Thee have pity on me

a sinner - a sinner!

dust and clay, mere dust and clay!

this frail, fragile, soon fading being

of blood and bone

cannot live, cannot survive,

without Thy blessed breath!

If Thou takest away Thy breath,

I soon fade away

and depart from this world.

only Thy hand sustains me,

maintains me in this blessed existence

without Thy hand holding me up,

I stumble and fall despite my desperate

tottering, doddering, confused baby steps,

and all I would know is despair, ignominy, and wretchedness

petering out miserably into oblivion,

for I would know not where to walk 

and why and how.

lead Thou me forward, past life, past death,

into Thy hands

hold me up, Lord,

with Thy hands,

if only so that I could feel 

Thy hand in mine,

For the remainder of this long, 

sometimes tedious, journey towards Thee,

hold me up

thus my imperfect, mortal prayer

of dust and clay and blood and bone.

and as an epilogue,

I whisper fiercely to the trees, to the stars, 

to the wind, to anyone who would listen:

I believe that Christ will take care of me

Portrait of a Quixotic Poet

Poor delusional me,

To whom all reality seems textual in nature.

The world is a word, the sun is a noun, the moon is derived from the Old English mōna.

Poor delusional me, a poet in my perception

But an absent-minded Quixote in others.

Caritas

Money profits nothing.

Material possessions deceive in their promise to finally fulfill.

After becoming profiteers of this world's gold and silver,

What would you do? What would you ever do?

After the last piece of gold is spent, and all money has been squandered,

The world having deceived us and robbed us of peace,

Only God and men will remain. Charity will remain forever