Behind the Act Is Always the Perception

Behind the act is always the perception.
Often we are led astray by light.
No chaos is more damaging than order
Neatly taped across a mystery.
In love and awe we worship only darkness,
Embracing what we know we cannot know.
Silence is a sea, while what we know
Etches the green hills of our perception.
Truth, unspeakable, resides in darkness,
However much we need the gift of light.
God is just a word. Each mystery
Awakens to the first pale gray of order.
Bright glory bathes the sculpted hills in order,
Rolling towards the edge of what we know.
Inside its veil of blue, the mystery
Eludes the clarity of our perception.
Longing is a quality of light
As in each word we sense an inner darkness.
No word but is a stairway down to darkness,
Down to chaos seething within order.
Live, then, within the pale of what you know,
In touch with terrors gilded by the light.
So may you part the curtain of perception,
Alive to all the grace of mystery.

Being and Becoming Are Creations
Being and becoming are creations
Of indispensable imaginations.
No being is, but as it is perceived,
Needing to be seen to be retrieved,
Infinite as nothing, fixed as numbers,
Eternal insofar as one remembers.
Mind is both what is and what remembers,
A creator that is one of its creations,
Reducible, as all must be, to numbers,
Knowable but to imaginations,
Unformed until by its own act retrieved,
Sustained so long as by itself perceived.
So must we all be by ourselves perceived:
Eternal insofar as one remembers.
To be is by some mind to be retrieved,
Held among the host of its creations.
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Have a Look in the Mirror of Your Dreams

Have a look in the mirror of your dreams:
All the horrors that you see are real.
Lest you think the world is as it seems,
Let your skin crawl, your frozen blood congeal.
Of fear and fantasy now take your fill.
Wells of sorrow lie beneath your feet.
Each sun-drenched field you mercilessly till
Endures to see your ultimate defeat.
Now let yourself let go your last conceit.
Have Witches Gone the Way of Wonders
Have witches gone the way of wonders,
Asterisks of yesterday?
Life restores what reason sunders,
Lest we lose our mind for play.
Once we knew that what we knew
Was like a ship upon a sea.
Evil spirits wandered through
Eternity, and what was true
Never tainted what might be.

Hell Has Little Hope of Happiness

Hell has little hope of happiness.
A devil is eternally on fire,
Locked within unquenchable desire,
Longing with hatred for lost holiness.
On Halloween the devils and the dead
Wander through the world as though to warn
Each soul of an eternity forlorn,
Evangelists condemned to speak through dread,
Nightmares that must preach through pain till dawn.

Hobgoblins Know the Proper Way to Dance
Hobgoblins know the proper way to dance:
Arms akimbo, loopy legs askew,
Leaping into darkness with delight,
Lusting for the ecstasy of fright,
Open to the charm of horrors new.
Well may you start your screaming in advance,
Even as you give a ghoul a chance,
Each creepy creature craving to say, "Boo!",
Near heaven in its netherworld of night.
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