Bereft of Light, One Stumbles in the Darkness
Music:
Fugue in Eb
Minor.
By Dimitri Shostakovich. Sequenced by
J.
Marques.
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Bereft of light, one
stumbles in the darkness,
Open
to the fantasy of death. None
can grasp his being but by
faith, Nor
can one see but by its
candlelight. In
faith there is both fantasy and
will. Each
must choose: to know or not to
know.
More
perhaps than not will choose to
know After
gazing long into the darkness. Reason
cannot see what spirit will: Kingdoms past the doorway we call
death, Undulating dreamscapes drenched in
light, So
lovely none could render them but
faith.
Light
for eight days testified for
faith, Implicating love in all we
know. Love
is a constituent of light, Invading with the light our inner
darkness. To be
in time is to be bound for
death; However, one may flourish where one
will.
Gravity is greater than the
will, A fact
that forms the boundary line of
faith, Breaking off where being ends in
death, Reason
blind where one most wants to
know. In
place of knowledge, all it sees is
darkness, Entering a doorway filled with
light, Lost
just at the entranceway to
light.
Eight
days faith did not depend on
will: Light
unfueled was proof against the
darkness, Letting sense sustain the words of
faith, Evidence unfeigned that all would
know. Nor
could one then believe in utter
death.
Sing,
then, of faith, that helps one live with
death, Embracing death with love by
candlelight. To
choose faith is to choose what one will
know, Having
made one’s truth an act of
will, Experiencing light in light of
faith, Looking for the light within the
darkness. In
darkness is the womb from which the
light Zealous springs from death, the act
that will |
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