Subtle Is the Lord...

The world in which we live is but the surface of an infinitely large sphere, a sphere which has not three dimensions but an infinite number of dimensions. Every action and thought which takes place in our surface world has deeper roots, more reality, and infinitely more meaning and importance than we can possibly imagine with our three dimensional brains.

In other words, we inhabit the event horizon of an infinitely large black hole. We do not have the tools to probe the interior of this immense black hole, but an infinite amount of information is leaking forth from the interior, and our every action, thought and spiritual impulse is being sucked into an entropy well of proportions, importance, and meaning we can never grasp. Our world is more important than we can ever imagine, yet it is but a fly speck on the surface of God's reality.

Baha'u'llah speaks to us about "all the world's of God". It is important to understand that there are indeed, more things in reality than we can imagine, more worlds in God's eye than we can currently see, more meaning and importance than we can ever comprehend.

So live, think, and act as if it matters. It does. More than we know.

To the Maid of Heaven...

Of all the maidens fair who have been crowned

By sweet Venus with a wreathe of beauty,

It is you alone, with tender melancholy,

Who knows bitter-sweet compassion so profound,

You cast your eyes down to the sullen ground,

Remembering the sweet-sad memory

Of hopeless love's torturous melody.

Ah. What sad remnant is in memory found

That does not change the heart for good or ill

That it be not the same forever more?

When you and I are long since dead,

Our thoughts no more and nature too has fled,

Could not a grievous wound be found there still?

When judgement comes, and secrets all are shown,

Though we be on a hopeless distant shore,

Yet by some stubborn ancient Will,

Could not our Maker in our heart-strings lore

Read all our sorrows, 'till our lives be known?

I know full well you’re there
At my side, in this instant:
You feel emotions of a thousand years
You know the joys of angels, and the tears.
Arise then
Toss your head from side to side
And let your hair blow in the breeze.
For only moments can it last, and then,
‘twill be but a memory.

Lights in line down lane
Stretching to infinity
Caressing single homes,
In exact displaced design.

Looking over lines of light
In night-time reverie
Jealous of the over-ripe
Splendor of storied sleep.

So soon to die a natural death,
A death’s head on the table
I wish I’d been a Troubadour,
Or Viking hailing shores.

The sun is setting and my thoughts
Are going down again,
Like a flame expiring slowly,
In a sudden, defiant death.

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