I’ve lapped so long. As you said. It fair takes. If I lose my breath for a minute or two don’t speak, remember! Once it happened, so it may again.
James Joyce, Finnegan’s Wake
Heartbeats rapid the memory, a souling needle sewing spirit in stone. Matter threading mattering into matter; anima motions time.
God creates because God is. Sophia condenses matter from the Trinity as the body of God unfolds life. Creation is an erotic act, the transcendent desiring the immanent, the universal wanting the particular, worlds forming from fingerwork in the divine doma. Between-and-within. Anima is space gasping; pneuma is time pearling into sweat. All the cosmos sways in creative union, spiritmatter waltzing kenosis. The One trembles the Many as the Many grips-tight the One, the here indenting eternity.
John the Madman swallows locusts in the wilderness, living on manna and stardust. Into the water and into the pneuma, I give myself to God, to the world. The earth-souls inhabit breath and breathe the Spirit, telling stories under the lamplight of the constellations, Orion barking yes. Timegrooves the melancholy joy of unraveling, enminded togethers tethering close the universe. Baptism in milk and ecstasy in honey. We are born again into resurrected flesh, dwelling in the imago dei of the Unique. Alaliallelujah.
I hope. I breathe. I decay. Fireflies rock lovingly the hallowed dirt. A thimble of memory holds eternity. Please hold me. Wash my feet before we commune, this body of mine. Take, eat. Most of the time I am afraid. Gaia dresses windowless the cosmopsyche. I hope I’m a good person. The all weeps wilderness, the wilderness weeps will. Everything hurts. All I am is time unraveling. All I am is matter mattering.
Everything matters so much.
Do you know what makes the prison disappear? Every deep, genuine affection. Being friends, being brothers, loving, that is what opens the prison, with supreme power, by some magic force. Without these one stays dead. But whenever affection is revived, there life revives.
Vincent Van Gogh, Letters
Image: Starry Night Over the Rhone by Vincent Van Gogh (1888)
Fish In the Afternoon 