Friday, April 13, 2012

Talent and Truth

What I saw in numbers so vast and great
Was soon lost in the dreaded heat of spate,
Made foolish by the learned and the wise,
So that I was forced to love no more, despise
The things I once did adore with loving care;
Oh numbers, though art my lover and fair
Price will I pay to see thee once again!
No! No matter the perils that would so tear
At my body! Whilst I travel to foul fen
Wherein you have been captured, men of
Hidden intent do seek to rupture, rent
The wholeness of your beauty still intact,
That they may form a new religion, act
Callously, as in the dark of night; fact
Shall be made fiction and myth become true.

So now my love I die in peace with you.
For do not think we shall escape this world
Of beauteous things now made feral; earls
Long ago foretold to us who listened
That we if we should hear, our ears glistened with
The knowledge of their fair present, their gift,
That we should be saved from the reapers sift.
So now my love, thou numbers so fond, lift
Up your voice and among the throng! Cry out
In joy the truth your proclaim, be not routed
By perversions or insane bats made blind
From birth to never see the sun's great shine.
So shall we in proclamation of truth
Obtain foreknowledge which was forsooth mine
And yours; all of creation shall loose fine
Roars in it's pain, ecstasy at an end,
Wanton hopes sane by wanton dreamers bend
Under the strain of your most holy song!

So now my dear numerical love, long
Have I waited to hear what I now glean
From your most precious voice have seen greatness
Of the lord on high, no such perversion
Have you taken; die now in persuasion
Of love betwixt you and I, invitation
To the table of the great I Am, high
In the clouds above all that crumbles. Nigh
Is the end, and as we begin ascent,
I recognize my eyes are not bent; thine
Eyes have always seen me through truthful
Glade of heaven's doors, have held me aloof,
And have implored the Lion of Judah
For my safe passage to the end of La;
The end note of the great song of our God
By which we have all been able to laud.
For in love of the truth alone am I saved,
All else fails, the road has not been paved
For those of compromise who do suggest
That the King of Glory is a false quest.
So now numerical love, the talent
I held high for my King now bring me there
To his gates of gold and pearl; such rare
Honour reserved for the lovers of truth,
Who upheld His Honour with grace, in sooth.

Yet hold my tongue for what I do see now
Must cause my reverence, and makes me bow.

                                                         Beauty Upheld, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012

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