I will take you to the machine shop of truth

32. the truth of the rose

 

I gaze at your beauty and I’m numb

I cannot describe it… I stare and I notice

the innumerable folds, circles, softness, colours,

fragrance and am spellbound until

I am drawn again to the epicenter of your

gaze. “I am obsessed with completions” he

once said… the one I lost and must find.

 

And I know

this is vital – I play with

something fundamental, Platonic… I have always let

the truth of the rose prevail, while I flee from the invitation

she offers… “come with me, into my gaze” she smiles, “and I will

take you to the machine shop of truth, beauty, goodness,

where the great master of the universe demonstrates his

carpentry of souls, new and damaged, until they shine and fly to

their rightful place. And, all the while, the fathermother

from some nearby room sings the truth of the

universe and blesses, while the spirit, the holiest spirit

soars – goes and comes, comes and goes to the machine

shop, releasing souls to the brotherson’s carpentry for

repair and delivery to new homes.

 

“Oh, do come,” the beautytruth urges, “you do not have to

stay. Come for a vision. There have been few since John and

Hildegard. You’ll see so much you can’t put into your words (all

words are understood here). It will live wordless in your soul,

sustaining you.”

 

She sings songs hymns in praise of the absolutes of the universe –

O come and see your home of many mansions…

starsborn, infinity, black holes

eclipses, full moons, setting suns

meteors in verdant greens and fullblooded reds

sprinkling this milkyway

O come and kneel…

and fades away…

 

I step to that dark abyss, the centre, and

dive.

 

[writing from orchids and neurons]

Done