Part 3: Christophany
Sand-rippling desert winds, dazzling rays of
Sun, shimmering tree-ringed oasis, temple ruins,
Discerning light Lexine perceived. Who drinks
From divine streams, eddies of salvation, for life
Eternal? She a stranger met, free of mournful
Tomb, Lamb of God, O! Christophany, on her
Face she fell, his scarred sandaled feet she kissed.
By wound-healed hands, he raised Lexine, mother
And sea-born son, by blazing kiln fires, he touched
Her mind, divine potter’s hand, clay vessel turned
And fashioned, Holy Spirit glazed, river of words,
Until sea breaks at her feet, face and eyes god-
Burnished, that which began with Dionysian rites
Led to mortal woman communing living god.
Servant of holy muses, Lexine wrote tirelessly,
Mind transfixed, fruit of her womb, Zalen, at her
Feet, musical sheep bells, words outpouring upon
Papyri, parchment, and copper sheets, desert
Winds her soul strains, wingéd thoughts alighting,
“Swallow Songs” she scribed, oasis of divine
Insight, Christ’s lantern burning bright.
“From his desert days, Christ appeared, welling
Spring of wisdom, faith, and healing,” Lexine
Wrote. “‘Speak out and hide nothing,’” Christ
Stated to her, ‘Look through my mind and eyes,
This oasis as affirmation of faith, life eternal,
Salvation through Father, living spring, the vine,
Shining door, our holy bond.’”
“‘In their folly men will scorn divine voices found
Within your songs and the gospels,’” Christ stated.
“Our burden is accepting fate: understanding that
Our lifework will be sacrificed by and for those
Who condemn us. Zalen and these gospels are your
Crown. Blesséd are these oasis days, hymns and
Praises, clothed in radiant light.’”
Whilst carrying Zalen in his arms, Christ and
Lexine conversed amongst ancient temple ruins,
Never touching, imparting wisdom beyond stated
Word. In his absence, Lexine wrote holy visions,
Impressions imparted onto her heart, earthen urns
Papyri-filled, each buried beneath ancient stone-
Block walls, laboring in faith until she slept.
“A poet, you see, is a light thing, and winged and holy, and cannot compose
before he [or she] gets inspiration and loses control of his senses and his
reason has deserted him.” ― Plato
Next and final is Part 4: Realization.