Prodigy - Halcyon - Love

The candescent prodigy of the greatest age.
Demanded by the mass, renewing the Eucharist beyond the old world;
unforseen rituals, sweat rising up in the "blood".
The greateset saviour of the day, perhaps even the week,
but it is already prophecide that he will give his life for us,
so that we may sin, so that we may self-forget, but he will have his column inches.

I speak as a self-forgotten man who sees the world transfiguring
in the very moment in which it's failed to be grasped.
A little like, I think, I see a starling on a tree branch singing its nature away, I blink, now it's lying lifeless on the road. A little like, I think.

Spinoza drew the A to B and the A to C with clear horizons, he wants us to see his world, the world tied up, an existence which flows not to the ocean to rest but in on itself with the excusite anguish of divinity.
I think I see the A, the B and the C,     in the slogan, in the omnipresent slogan, in the omniscient slogan             .....I have found God.

Francis Bacon drew Triptychs as an expression but I have known these things. I have drunk with them and eaten of  them. I have given them expression AS and indeed, I have called them 'friend'.
I have been one of them and.... NOW.... have become one of them again. My self-forgetting is like the din of footsteps within (to?) our sphere, terminal.

Things only become manifest in 'rarified times', when love is felt. I understand love better than my old friends.   I was love when I lay there with them on those nervous evenings and sweat saturated morinings, when we had burnt ourselves raw, when we were there. We felt each others bodies and and I KNEW that we were both together. The stained sheets that covered the matress under us, the blanket tossed away to the floor, pillows a damp mess and your breath....delicate extacy, my body quivering and yearning and giving in the halcyon glimmer of those love rooms.

It was only when their doors had closed that I wondered if I'd already forgotten,
the Old World took its own life for us to realise.....what?

love is the true sublimation, our true becoming. The Triptychs could never know love.
The candescent prodigy of the greatest age is in enmity to love , but I will war with him again.......when the moment comes again.......on a halcyon sheet somewhere in the day, perhaps even the week.