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Sentinel
Poetry (Online) #36 – November 2005 Online Magazine Monthly…since
December 2002. ISSN 1479-425X
Matt Leporati
The Artist
Her pencil moves swiftly across the paper,
Capturing my features between bounding lines.
An illusion crafted from airy nothing,
A creatio out of the
Nihilo of a
Blank page.
Goddess, giver of form,
Cloaking the potentiality of her Father Chaos
With the images of the universe,
The illusion of matter, which encloses Truth --
That which is Not.
Artist of Infinity! Sketch my mortal form
With those delicate hands; stretch Your vision
Forth and create me anew in Your image.
Forge me as a specter from Your mind,
A representation of a higher dimension
That is Not.
A Nothing clothed with the raiments of beauty,
Enclosed on all sides by Your Divine Imagination.
Pairs
The flashing eyes of my love hang in the gloom
Of existence.
Two pinpoints of light – radiance,
Light
Among the dead,
A double planet of worlds to be discovered,
Glowing
With the glistening temptation of Ripening Fruit,
Beckoning
My soul to split in twain and enter these twin
portals,
Entwining pair with pair,
Weaving
Life out of the stars. Beyond, the joy of infinite
space
Informs the dance; a warm and loving force pours
through
Two doors of perception. The road towards being
cleansed.
Road to Damascus.
Salt tears for joy I cry. Life redeemed with this
river
Turned to sweetness, like our experience.
Pilgrimage, growing ripe. The first taste of fruit.
Sweet.
Love.
My serpentine soul curls around the Tree,
Eager to gain Knowledge of the pairs.
Descent of the soul
Into matter to secure its redemption; all life
Redeemed with a kiss
Softer than light, brighter than sound,
Beyond, beyond, beyond.
Debate not the image of the image beheld in youth’s
first love,
For no words describe its radiance. Before she
arrived,
My life was bleak – a darkness punctuated only at last
By two bright stars that marked my path
Through Heaven.
Now her arrival has mounted my spirit higher
Than infinity – a mighty pillar is my will,
The lingam
Of Shiva, prepared to yield itself to Her.
A third eye? Doors of perception fully cleansed
By Outis.
We are absent, our souls abstract
Themselves out of existence, vanishing
In the blazing light of the Gods.
Saul, Saul, why do you love Me?
Why – ?
It must needs be. This love is its own justification,
Fulfilling the will that drives life.
My will.
Had our hearts no purpose, we two would ne’er have
met, but
Life
Requires us to make use of its gifts.
An afterthought gifted with foresight,
A joy built upon sorrow,
A struggle built upon peace.
None of these are Man, but each is a fragment of his
Tale.
The vulture devours all, and tickles as he torments.
The question mark confronts all seekers, defying
Rationality with reason.
Cease the ravings! Hesitate not, and live!
In the richness of Love and Death, let us surrender
Our lives to the Gods, to the true Self, to
Love.
Love is the law, love under will.
Fragments dance before our reason, further fragmented
By consciousness;
Life’s confusion would overwhelm if Man
Were not adept at lying to himself.
The hope of ending confusion lies in perceiving
Totality, in realizing the Unity of the universe
In the light of Gnosis, in reassembling the pairs,
In climbing the Tree anew by virtue of its fruit,
The Tree of Life.
Leap over knowledge and rise to the star dance!
Pilgrimage.
My fruit has brought light back into this world,
Enabling the unlimited affirmation of all that is.
My fruit.
The pearl of perfect value, the jewel in the lotus
Of Maya.
AUM Mani Padme Hum.
And yet we are apart, both
Aspects of existence – Yin and Yang –
Individual, eternal, complete,
Our unity cast in the form of male
And female, cloaked in clay,
Concealed in blessed
Imperfection.
The eternal affirmation --
Dissolution of self,
Assertion of self --
Is secured by the token of the Gods,
The prize
For which I have suffered the heartaches
Of a lifetime, which I would gladly endure again,
For which I have explored new worlds
And emerged with the treasure of Love,
For which all poets since the dawn of time
Have composed hymns of praise,
For which all men have labored
Who desire to end desire:
A kiss,
The brushing of two lips,
Rejoining the pairs
And allowing our twin serpent souls
To entwine anew.
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