Monday, January 10, 2011


“Each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.” Edgar Allan Poe

Let me leap into the inferno
Let me jump into the sun
Burn me to a crisp
Let this flesh bound life be done
But my spirit will still fly
It cannot be destroyed
I was made by the one
Who created everything
From all existence
To eternal void
The angels sing
I am dust, and clay
The one is eternal
And perfect
I bow down and pray
For worship is proper
In reflection of the architect
Of all there is
I am a speck
Dust in wind
I am nothing
As I reflect
I know my creator is good
For the world is bountiful
And perfect
Unlike me
So let me be consumed
By the fire of creation
Let me be redeemed
At once recreated
God is more than all
I am nothing
So it is possible
For me to believe

“Even in decline, a virtuous man increases the beauty of his behavior. A burning stick, though turned to the ground, has its flame drawn upwards.” Saskya Pandita