A Testament to the Hours

A Testament to the Hours

The tension in your womb bares no certain words;

only the voiceless sense of hidden hands

plaiting the future deep within.


You feel the formation of a sovereign seed––

a lily-of-the-valley destined to rise

in this wilderness of humanity.


Yet within your joy at the fruit of your loins,

you behold Isaiah’s prophecy

of that sacred flower shredded by the hour.


Right then you consider abandoning the seed

in a savage ecstasy of shock and grief

but persevere despite sin’s heinous pleas.


As conception’s reckoning prods and fades,

you foresee a lost lily recovered in the temple,

telling you with reverent irony:

“Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?”



As a lofty tear

glides down

the cheek-ridge,

so the scarlet

capemagne trails

suspended above

the marble floor.

Furtivus Anima

Furtivus Anima

A thirst of affection seeks
the unrepentant soul.
Like Helen drawn by Paris’s charm,
the Light pursues an avenue to the heart.

My inmost being is rebellious.
It halts heaven’s advances with barricades
of human will and stone walls of human id,
making no room for the beckoning of glory.

I yearn the Light’s abduction;
for it to lead me to that place
hidden from the searching gaze
of my condition.

May this heart of mine be ransomed
with the blood-price of redemption.
May it be rescued from profane restoration,
keeping me in bondage to the Divine.




As Dante descends

the bottomless spiral

of abyss,

so am I racked

on this subliminal

wheel of flesh,

tortured by crude

implements of carnal desires



Life is a cross-roads

between righteousness

and depravity.

Each path lures me

like Ulysses to the Sirens.

But I am not a faithful lover.

I take pleasure from both

when I see fit,

yet am always left unsatisfied


As a broken cistern

half-full, half-empty,

I await the Light to scorch me

bare, then fill to overflowing.

For I have taken up my cross,

I have crucified myself,

yet like Christ, I thirst.

Free will flails and nails me,

pierces my unguarded side.

I am slowly dying from indecision,

but still, I thirst


Domine, libera me malo,

I hear my mind say.

But why not deliver me

from the cross-roads of life?

For it matters not that one way

is straight and the other narrow,

both tear me clean down the center



In this ethereal war

for the soul,

I am exchanged as a captive

between spirit and flesh.

As an unfinished vessel,

I steer in the current of goodness,

but corruption’s tides

always turn me back.

And within these trade winds

of confusion, I find my life

is not my own


In the midst of this purgatory of self,

I taste divine reason’s sweet liquid.

The old conflictions pass away;

new resoluteness is born.

I have seen the path to Paradiso

and started its steep ascent.

Though I get knocked back by detours

of folly and baseness, I press on still,

guided by the Light’s committed hand,

my soul in pursuit of its perfect majesty