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Saturday, 22 May 2010

Whitsun

A dream of a spirit,

Sweeping, dancing through the world,

Overcoming differences,

Mediating conflicts,

Speaking a Word that is pure communication,

Comprehending and comprehended by all

Who are touched by its flighty, dancing flounce;

Flickering flames in the darkness

Lighting dusty, cobwebby, shadowy corners,

Where demons of inadequacy, pettiness and shame lurk,

Nightmares of hurt and hate

Blown into disappearing, dissolving, glistening dust

By a Divine Wind.


A dream of a spirit,

The breath of a god

Exhaling unity and harmony

And perfect understanding

Into a broken babbling world

Of economic competition and exploitation,

Of scrabbling for survival and advantage,

Of climbing to security with hard-nailed boots over all those perceived as threats

(Or who just happen to be innocently in the way),

Of man-made miseries and natural catastrophes

And nattering networks.


A dream of a spirit;

A chimerical paraclete

Sent from above?

The old, human, millennial quick-fix?

Veni creator spiritus.

Or the longing for that something more than we are,

But that we know we can be?

When we are serene

And small

And modest

And listening,

An empty bowl spilling over,

Then

We are the Holy Ghost.


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