… oh, who could enter the sidereal orchard of utopia in pursuit of beauty,
and anointing its seeds with light from the Body-Soul,
- that one, that of Christ and Elijah -
bring them and make them seed here, in the central region of the chest,
in his inner eardrum: the voice of the heart...
… therefore, and from the high lute that I call,
May the altar of offering and the sea of bronze or crystal be worth to me,
that from the showbread and the golden lampstand, arise the divine gift and the firstfruits of it,
and that all of them, to the praise of the incense and the unfathomable divine light, listen to me and speak,
and that also, and, likewise, replicate it and make my very fragile being:
the trivial steps that I still am and take,
the fennels and crying,
the pebbles,
the swinging match,
the one that illuminates my house-temple and here I bring expressing such graceful and miserable verses,
the very incipient and brief spark, I say,
and, at the same time, hidden, and meager, and clumsy, and grey, inconsequential and minimal. ...
***
Antonio Justel Rodriguez
https://www.orindepanthoseas.com
***