Freedom of the Word

As I'd promised I spent another evening in poetry at Cheap Wine and Poetry. There are few things more beautiful than wine. Deep, red, perfected without form, beautiful in it's ability to fill any vessel- a suitable metaphor for our Lord, I think.

The poetry was also pretty good. Went with Adrian and thoroughly enjoyed myself on Capitol Hill. The poetry this evening was less angry, and more honest, than two nights ago. There was some good stuff two nights ago, but in retrospect it felt like, for the most part, they were trying to be raw, to be earthy. Here it actually was. There was less of the blatantly sexual- nothing wrong with sex in poetry, of course, but there is if you have to throw it in in every poem, every line, just to titillate. There was so many great words tonight I felt like I was drowning in the goodness, and the music. One guy not only looked like my dad, but even had the same stage presence, cadance, and rhythm of my dad- it was eery.

To complete the night of cheap wine and poetry, I was inspired as I listened, and thought:

Wine

Deep,
Red,
Perfected without form,
Able to fill any vessel,
It draws me in,
Depths without measure,
Pulling me towards pure beauty,
Till I am surrounded by all,
In all
Through all.
It is murky ether
Slowing me down in deed and thought,
And I am content to rest in the air of Jupiter,
Finding my place in the rapture of the deep,
Once I see through a glass darkly.

Now I see face to face.
The depth of death.
Death comes to us all
...........and thank God.
Not a blissful release,
Not an angry opponent,
But the hope for transformation.
Wells of possibility,
Coming to greet me,
Pulling me forward,
Till He surrounds me,
And the rest is silence,
Within the sacrifice of life.