Poem
Wednesday, 07 September 2016

The Beyondness Of Things

Francis Pedraza
Dec 16, 2018 · 2 min read

If, for all my faults,
I could but become this song;
To incarnate such sublime majesty;
Such grace; Such love; Such passion;
Such yearning and promise and faith;
Such peace even in empathy; Such understanding of pain;

Like an angel, a great Comforter; It soothes my shoulders, whispers in my ear;
Like a trumpeter, it proclaims from the high places;
Unspoken statements proclaimed as loudly:
“This, this too, this too is worth it;
This too has been redeemed;
This too is good; or can be made good;
For you see sadness, but we see grace;
The power to transform; to pull Beauty from these ugly things;
How great, how great is the Author of Mysteries!
Praise! Praise! The Beyondness Of Things.
And he saw his works, and he saw that it was good;
Tov, tov; Good; good. Tov…
Tov!”

I would endure rebirth; Yea, a thousand rebirths;
And all the great pains and despairs and losses and heart-wrenching sagas;
I would bear witness to all the evils of man; all the betrayals and crimes;
I would watch as the noble are brought low and their works are destroyed;
I would watch them build it back; and, as the tao of water, slowly restore, and heal the land, in quiet things and quiet labors; in indirect ways, when the direct ways are denied them;
I would suffer all, if this You promise me;
Nay, not in Publik Contract, but in the contract of a secret whisper…

To come back; To live in some future life; Reborn in this Form,
Reborn as this song; Your Song;
Bringing joy;
Joy to one, And then to thousands;
Living in the ear; Promising them this.

If I could come back, If I must come back,
I would like to come back,
Not as a man,
But as a song,
This song.

Even now, in this lifetime, may I express it;
As it expresses me; as it expresses You.

Sing to me your song.
Whisper to me.
Your never-ending Story.
Sing me to sleep.
Sing me to wake.
Sing me to life.
Sing as I move, as I act.
May my actions translate your song.

Hallelujah! Amen.

lowercase: poetry

Every poem, an explosion. Spirit moves through all beings who let it. Move through me!

Francis Pedraza

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Is spirit moving?

lowercase: poetry

Every poem, an explosion. Spirit moves through all beings who let it. Move through me!