I passed by your window in the early Morn; Your doors were shut and your curtains drawn; Yet, though I knew you were wrapped in sleep I thought the news to good to keep.
So, I tossed up a pebble to tinkle your pane; I guess you thought it was merely rain. And, I sang you an Obade, there in the dark; Perhaps you thought it was just a lark.
Or was it He who sent the rain You thought you heard upon your pane; As wasn’t it He, passed ages dark, Who gave the voice to the Lark?
But lest I disturb you with my song, I’ll pick up my verse and just move along: For the evening has passed and the night is gone, And there on the mountain is the Trumpet of Dawn.
An Obade is song sung at dawn in honor of someone.
When at last the house is empty And you’re setting with your mate, In the vespers of the evening, Having a tête-à-tête,
And you’re looking for life’s answer In the eyes eternal hue; May the good Lord send His blessing To prove your love was true: + With a bolt from out Eternity, To M ass within a C of light; Astride a swirling gossamer Voluted into flight;
On the murmur of a humming-heard, To alight a fairy’s kite; Tethered to a drop of dew On the web of love’s delight.
As out from the mount of Zion There came a thunderous roar The Angels cried: “Hosanna! Woe to the threshing floor.”
And the voice-of-many-waters surged From out the Mercy Seat; Words of thunder and of lightening On the quake of prancing feet.
And the Angels knelt in Heaven To cringe ‘neath a quivering wing; Bearing the woe of those below That this nu-clear thing would bring. + When, on thunder hoofs with mighty roar The Lion-Mounted-Charger bore From out the Atom, rimmed with fire, In bloodied vestures, red with ire.
As comets did His banners sheen, In purple, crimson, emerald green; In light as bright to shadow man: The blazon shield of Heaven’s span.
With fiery eyes and flaming mien, From out the cloud; His glory seen. To query man his rightful task: “Where is thy brother, m a a a a y I ask!”
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The Messenger
I passed by your window in the early Morn;
Your doors were shut and your curtains drawn;
Yet, though I knew you were wrapped in sleep
I thought the news to good to keep.
So, I tossed up a pebble to tinkle your pane;
I guess you thought it was merely rain.
And, I sang you an Obade, there in the dark;
Perhaps you thought it was just a lark.
Or was it He who sent the rain
You thought you heard upon your pane;
As wasn’t it He, passed ages dark,
Who gave the voice to the Lark?
But lest I disturb you with my song,
I’ll pick up my verse and just move along:
For the evening has passed and the night is gone,
And there on the mountain is the Trumpet of Dawn.
An Obade is song sung at dawn in honor of someone.
A Wedding in Paradise
Angels from the Lord were sent
To trumpet-wide His firmament;
Where on His day-dawn clouds to bear
Treasures for His wedded pair;
As cherubs trade their swords for rice:
Betrothing Earth to Paradise.
E=MC 2
When at last the house is empty
And you’re setting with your mate,
In the vespers of the evening,
Having a tête-à-tête,
And you’re looking for life’s answer
In the eyes eternal hue;
May the good Lord send His blessing
To prove your love was true:
+
With a bolt from out Eternity,
To M ass within a C of light;
Astride a swirling gossamer
Voluted into flight;
On the murmur of a humming-heard,
To alight a fairy’s kite;
Tethered to a drop of dew
On the web of love’s delight.
NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM
As out from the mount of Zion
There came a thunderous roar
The Angels cried: “Hosanna!
Woe to the threshing floor.”
And the voice-of-many-waters surged
From out the Mercy Seat;
Words of thunder and of lightening
On the quake of prancing feet.
And the Angels knelt in Heaven
To cringe ‘neath a quivering wing;
Bearing the woe of those below
That this nu-clear thing would bring.
+
When, on thunder hoofs with mighty roar
The Lion-Mounted-Charger bore
From out the Atom, rimmed with fire,
In bloodied vestures, red with ire.
As comets did His banners sheen,
In purple, crimson, emerald green;
In light as bright to shadow man:
The blazon shield of Heaven’s span.
With fiery eyes and flaming mien,
From out the cloud; His glory seen.
To query man his rightful task:
“Where is thy brother, m a a a a y I ask!”
Your God is a consuming fire . ~Heb. 12:29 .
*
The Coming Light
Do angels light on your hair at night,
When you’re asleep and your soul’s in flight;
As butterflies might pause in flight
To await the coming light~
I think they might.
In My Garden
In my garden morning light
Skirts the phantoms
Into flight;
To flush a blush upon the rose
And wake the earth from her repose.
The Calling of the Clan
Be they be, by bond or blood,
When Earth has swallowed up the flood;
And whether they be Knight or Knave,
All shall to His banner clave
To plight the Maximus of Man:
The final “Calling of His Clan.”
By The Gate
In my garden, by the Gate,
A praying mantis lies in wait;
Courting love while fearing fate:
Preying to devour her mate.
Revelation 21:
In the midst of the lodge there is a stone:
+
Those who do not see it shall stumble
And be laid waste.
So come, bring you rod and your level,
Your plumb-line, your compass and square;
To the Stone that the builders rejected:
To build His city there.
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