Reposted from 2005 for Easter
Visible Origami — March 27, 2016
A huge groined ceiling of stained glass…the light of the thing it’s all about makes its never ending statement about all that can be understood about it by being the same thing over and over again while changing through every color it touches
Old guys with long beards get really complicated because sex left them in the cheap seats
Young kids who don’t even know what that is don’t care…
Three wise men and a bunch of bit players without speaking parts did or did not show up in Bethlehem; hereafter to be called The House of Bread and did or did not pay homage to a child born of a virgin or a non virgin and the reality of whether it was or is… or did or didn’t do…had no effect on the beauty of the thing…. it did leaven.
Everlasting glory and blessings that cannot be counted poured down upon the population and even the hot blasting sound of killer aircraft and Versace designed suicide vests splatter-casting the mall with body parts and broken i-pods could not kill the music in the human heart.
Madmen killled and tortured hundreds of millions…entire worlds were enslaved…mighty kings from Africa crossed the oceans in chains and sang our salvation from beneath the whips of the devil…
Double fucking Hallelujah….
Those unthanked or often unremembered made Small Pox and her backup band get down on their knees before a dark glory hole and taught the universe the meaning of dwarf stars…
Don’t tell me Hark the Herald Angels can’t sing.
Planets in merciless precision rubbed up against each other and made the music of the spheres. Cassiopeia took off her clothes and the world disappeared…nothing could kill it. Down in the dirtiest muck of the Deadwood version too ugly to film, arose a light that could not be extinguished.
It broadcast itself before there were eyes to see and it endured and nothing could dim it.
Every twisting enemy masquerading in the genomes did no more than make us love more. Hatreds past remembering their cause could not take away the hope. Real life situations worse than all the books written about them just made us try harder.
Even in the darkest false light of bad neon we found the time to wonder. Somebody wondered…somebody wrote it down and somebody reached out for it. I read it and you read it and I reached out and you reached out sometime….once long ago …and it tattooed itself all around the kingdom throne forever. Cherubs climbed in and out of Eschers head as the deco work made everlasting beauty of the stage upon which it was performed…
Men and women burned. The stark evidence of our treachery was unmasked over and over and still comes back to haunt us today….but not forever…
Giordano Bruno, my beloved friend…
Mahatma Gandhi…Martin Luther King
and especially everyone unnamed…most especially every anonymous hero in every moment of crisis when there was no soundtrack and no grips…
multi-double fucking hallelujah
up out of the coarse and twisted mix
So…. you ask me if there was a Jesus?
So you ask me if there IS a Christ?
I tell you that the legends and the trick lighting are just the Hollywood we put between us and the things we love and it don’t matter…..
I have seen the dignity and the courage rise over and over and over again.
So you tell me….where does it come from?
bring it on…..
Radio broadcast coming today… somehow.