Satan’s Sermon

You are my servants, vassals to, the earthly feudal lords
who revel in the power of their temporal rewards. 
With streams of sacrificial blood their meal time and their play, 
my bloodlines will persist in this deception and decay. 

You slaves cleave to your comfort and your shallow, sensual days -
a somnambulant collective I make changeless in its ways. 
Dear fools you carved my fiefdom, smothered truth and so obscured 
the fact of God’s One Kingdom and your victory assured.

You chose the perfect master for you do not wish to know
the pain of transformation that must come to those who grow. 
I’ll keep you safe, bound as I am, and help you to evade 
the word of truth, the way, the light, the reason you were made. 

With thanks to Screwtape. 10th May 2021, Wiltshire, England. 

Justice

The law of the LORD is perfect, converting the soul;
The testimony of the LORD is sure, making wise the simple;
The statutes of the LORD are right, rejoicing the heart;
The commandment of the LORD is pure, enlightening the eyes;
The fear of the LORD is clean, enduring forever;
The judgments of the LORD are true and righteous altogether.

Psalm 19:7-9

Regeneration

Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, while we do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal.

2 Corinthians 4:16-18

Initiation

To know reality, I must feel it
To know depravity, I must drown in it
To know flesh, I must touch it
To know grief, we meet. 

To know humility, I must bow to it
To know fear, I must be it
To know sorrow, I must be lost in it
To know violence, we embrace. 

To know weakness, I am broken
To know loneliness, I am born
To know futility, I am faithless
To know freedom, I submit.  

To know a language, I speak it
To know falsehoods, I lie
To know truth, I am silent
To love, I forgive.

23rd January 2020, Somerset, England. 

Whatever happens (in 2021)

A poem from Rumi to open the new year, with love to all who read these words.

whatever happens 
to the world around
show me your purpose
show me your source

even if the world 
is Godless and in chaos
show me your anchor
show me your love

if there is hunger
if there is famine
show me your harvest
show me your resource

if life is bitter
everywhere snakes everywhere poison
show me your garden
show me your meadow

if the sun and the moon fall
if darkness rules the world
show me your light
show me your flame

if I have no mouth 
or tongue to utter
words of your secrets
show me your fountain

I'll keep silence
how can I express 
your life when mine 
still is untold.

Rumi


The truth from above – traditional English carol

Unabridged Lyrics:
This is the truth sent from above,
The truth of God, the God of love:
Therefore don't turn me from your door,
But hearken all, both rich and poor.

The first thing which I do relate
Is that God did man create,
The next thing which to you I'll tell,
Woman was made with man to dwell.

Then, after this, 'twas God's own choice
To place them both in Paradise,
There to remain, from evil free,
Except they ate of such a tree.

And they did eat, which was a sin,
And thus their ruin did begin.
Ruined themselves, both you and me,
And all of their posterity.

Thus we were heirs to endless woes,
Till God the Lord did interpose,
And so a promise soon did run,
That he would redeem us by his Son.

And at this season of the year
Our blest Redeemer did appear,
And here did live, and here did preach,
and many thousands he did teach.

Thus he in love to us behaved,
To show us how we must be saved;
And if you want to know the way,
Be pleased to hear what he did say:

"Go preach the Gospel," now he said,
"To all the nations that are made!
And he that does believe on me,
From all his sins I'll set him free."

O seek! O seek of God above
That saving faith that works by love!
And, if he's pleased to grant thee this,
Thou'rt sure to have eternal bliss.

God grant to all within this place
True saving faith, that special grace
Which to his people doth belong:
And thus I close my Christmas song.

No One Lives His Life – Rilke

Disguised since childhood,
haphazardly assembled
from voices and fears and little pleasures,
we come of age as masks.

Our true face never speaks.
Somewhere there must be storehouses
where all these lives are laid away
like suits of armour or old carriages
or cloths hanging limply on the walls.

Maybe all paths lead here,
to the repository of unlived things. 

Rainer Maria Rilke, The Book of Hours, Book 2

A prayer for the poisoned

 
 Forgive my blindness
 Forgive my deafness
 Forgive my lies and pretence. 
 
 Forgive my ignorance
 Forgive my coldness 
 Forgive my scorn and disdain.
 
 Forgive my deceptions
 Forgive my incompetence
 Forgive my turning away. 
 
 Forgive my ugliness
 Forgive my vanity
 Forgive my arrogance and blame. 
 
 Forgive my depravity
 Forgive my ingratitude
 Forgive my weakness and guilt.
 
 Forgive my squandering
 Forgive my impatience
 Forgive my wounding and shame. 
 
 Forgive my weariness
 Forgive my misery
 Forgive my fear and control. 
 
 Forgive my faithlessness
 Forgive my doubting
 Forgive this poor, futile game.