Got dream?

I was absorbed by it, the understanding; it overtook my entirety as if it were all that was to be known about the whole world — and it was only, it took only a few words in our Lord’s prayer: “…Thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven.” The mystic understands this, that our smallness in comparison to the Endless is incomprehensible, that one jot of any know whose parameters fall even near the bounds of the divine… our minds can be filled to brimming by trivial truths, and our soul overwhelmed by anything with meaning beyond the surface. In fact, it wasn’t even that whole phrase that had me swooning, suffice it only that “Thy will” could cover what I was trying to wrap my imagination around, finding it wrapped around me, instead, quite the more easily.

I am inspired by the home page of the New York Times. It makes me think that I can do things, not of anything like spectacular beauty, but something like the structure of the layout: clean, competent, and useful. It is a mundane thing that gives me pleasure, not created out of any genius, and most probably not from the hand of one individual: this is the capacity of the human being when in fine of mind, I could say. It makes me feel as if I could accomplish something good, if I only put some spit and polish into it, if I only worked hard at something. It says to me that things are possible, practical things, that which has effect in day to day life. I don’t know how many others have felt these things about it; I suspect as most things, it will be taken for granted. But that is part of its purpose: how neat. Not all things to be must change the whole world for someone to notice.

We need not despair of any man, so long as he lives. For God deemed it better to bring good out of evil than not to permit evil at all.

enter the dream where the fountainhead of forever lies
it is nearer than your own heart, and even more trustworthy
flight is not merely for the angels — light not merely to see

darkness in the face of light
the world turns on the news
forgets the idea; seize the show
these fleeting, incomplete senses
all that uncollected life randomly forgets
randomly remembers little
things that spoke to us through the wall
thrown against the back of action
we knew how when we knew nothing
what was it we had when
we lived, knew why because it was unasked
through imagination flew
and understood what it was without
knowing because it’s too much
to keep all of it in pretty color coded values
now in the surrounding inner spaces
wires did we mean to carry
all the things we found in reflection
throughput hearts and electricity
even love picked up on radar
but even lightning is corruptible
a fall from heaven, eternity into time
though in one hour the sky dark with sins
the mote in That eye huge
asked why, why, even if he knew
i am what i am, tell them
because the news is still happening
that one hour death misunderstood
darkness in the face of light