Upon first hearing those exuberant voices-Eternal flashes-flowers of astounding Other-worldliness/ This Star wrought story arranges what must already be considered of us-constellations of being Consecration, concentration; Cool stone Labyrinth of ideas merged into light. Though that cruel laughter fraught or torn w/in faces strewn within tears or the blood of unholy hatred/ as lives careen-stolen cars aflame w/ desperation- I opened the only door again that day; As latter leaves sway the balm/ solstice amber evening tide/ I could believe you Again, of redemption Despite the crooked road-O nothing crown- As mutation of sin or perversions pleasures/ are not without Light-our tender soul built life, it leads us abliss/past the rust kiln shop of this desperate heart.. What holy needs beyond our loneliness? Early Summer 1997 From "Advent-Alpha" Painting Copyright T. Byron K. 1994