Life Is Simpler Toward Evening. Father Ralph Wright

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      writing beauty

      alive in the sky

      I AM A SHELL

      I am a shell

      listen to me

      for the roar and silence

      of the eternal sea.

      A MEDITATION ON THE NEED FOR DARKNESS

      somewhere a star was growing slowly old

      in the uninfinite a light was dying

      exchanging heat for cold and day for night

      achieving a new darkness into which

      sperm could be uttered to create a god

      fire condensed to lava and became

      through far millennia a cool dark earth

      water and rock and air and even ice

      were slowly there

      leave room for the darkness, darling, leave me room

      carry me, mother, carry me in your womb

      towards eternity patiently into being

      think what millennia did first gestate

      with none, thank God, save God, to count and wait

      (who being eternal logically couldn’t)

      for all to happen

      we are just one

      one of a milion million — how the mind

      becomes so easily drunk with multiplicity

      and reels accordingly —

      one of a million million finite things

      born of a burnt-out lump of coal

      flung from the hearth of incandescent light

      onto the cold floor of night

      like a picked bone to a hungry pup

      God too was born of darkness became Man

      Christ needed like new grain the darkness too

      to hit the earth and die in giving birth —

      he was enwombed enfleshed and then emboned

      undarknessed into being and embraced

      there in the lamplit stable then not now —

      leave room for the darkness, darling, leave me room

      carry me, mother, carry me in your womb

      towards eternity patiently into being

      the awe would scorch our minds if we had not

      gloved it in clumsy concepts to protect

      us from explosion

      he came but half an hour ago or less

      in cosmomanic terms into our world

      a world that once was light but had to be

      a cold beacon of darkness to become

      a womb unto its God

      leave room for the darkness, darling, leave me room

      carry me, mother, carry me in your womb

      towards eternity patiently into being

      the crumble moment of our frail words

      ceilings against our heads

      the cold star wombs the utterance of God

      a universe prepares new silence

      just for the possibility of sound

      (and the Word was made Flesh)

      the world achieves new darkness to leave room

      for eyes to wonder at the fact of light

      (and leave, it must be said, room for the blind)

      the potter finds a way to fashion slime

      from which might grow these hands

      — both His and mine

      leave room for the darkness, darling, leave me room

      carry me, mother, carry me in your womb

      towards eternity patiently into being

      LUST

      I lust

      to be me

      free

      triumphant

      unbound

      by the limitation

      of being

      created

      I lust

      to be you

      in a union

      of ecstasy

      where your whole body

      and your mind

      are mine

      I lust

      to be God

      looking

      with power

      over all

      from before

      the beginning

      I lust

      to be me

      to be you

      to be God

      but He

      offers

      all three

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