We had not expected to make landfall hereHad not expected to arrive at allDrowning was all we knewThe gentle art of going underGracefully giving way without a struggle

Now we are non-plussedWho would have thought itAll those years of losing without findingSurviving against the oddsSwimming against the tideHave brought us here

How did we merit thisShielding our eyes from joyBaffled impressed and shakenWhat are the odds on this

We have heard about winning and losingWe know there are games you can playWhere others lose so you can win And cannot figure out these games

We do not understand the conceptOf reducing others to increase yourself Of winning at the cost of others losingAnd ask where this can lead you

If there is such a thing as winningWe would prefer to win on meritAnd would like you to win tooBy the increase of your merit(If there is such a thing as merit)Rather than lose by a reduction of your power(If there is such a thing as losing)

Braced with the lifelong habit Of surviving against the oddsWe want you to make landfall too Even against the odds(If there are any odds)

How to survive the New OrderWe the new-bornShakyUnstableFaltering on unsteady feet Stunned by a dazzle we cannot interpret

And how to let go of the OldWe the dyingShakenUnsteady Clutching at spaceWhere once there was meaningReaching for crutchesFor structures that do not exist

Where are the resonant texts The outworn soundsThat once were wordsThat once gave meaningTo our hollownessAnd now make it more hollow Who are we nowSpanning the voidTreading the airDying and being bornGiving birth to ourselvesWithout oxygen

WHAT ARE THE RULES?

Ah but our blood is richWe the dyingFor we have lived our dreams And pass them on to youWithout Health Warnings

How will you digest Delusions of such grandeurRealised against the oddsBacks to the wallWith no resourcesYou the New born?

For we have grabbed at the cosmosShamelesslyAnd pulled it off its pegAnd left it dangling

What will you say about thatIn your text-booksLooking for contextSearching for clarification

How will you summarize this New OrderTidy it upExplain it awayGive it a framework and perspective That makes sense?

And supposing there is no senseSuppose it just did it itself one summer afternoon Because its time had come?

What will you say to that?

We cling to the lip of the volcanoBecause it is our homeLiving from day to dayUnknowingUnrepentantThe only place we know

But the New Order Is not what we’ve been toldFor there are no rulesAnd warfare comes disguised

This is a masked ball Where bombs come as hymnsBullets as liturgiesThe sky rains psalmsBeliefs killAnd holy passion immolates itselfIn a fire that does not purify But leaves the stinking remnants of the soulNo place to go

Our spirits ache for sacred thingsFor the discredited men in frocks Who soaped our sins awayAnd took us on a tripA Mystery Tour that ended in the toilets This is no time to live on a volcano

But the careless Spring awakens thoughtlesslyUnknowingUnrepentantSweetened by birdsongBlushing silentlySmiling Confident At ease

And this tender Spring is the oldest spell of allIt gives us a place to go

If you want to mock a man

You have only to implement his teachingsNo need to kill him Human Nature will do that

Too great a Love is indigestibleIt cannot be absorbed by us poor sods down here And blows us all to bits

The Man from Galilee knew this perhapsBut couldn’t help himselfHe was who he wasAnd didn’t need the fervent words Of prehistoric old men in the desertTo tell him what to do

It was a dilemma thoughFor the famous Gurus had predicted A climacticA world-changing event Embodied by a man who fits the part And can sell the story to the punters

Could he turn down this starring roleOr was he condemned to say the wordsPerform the deeds foretold historicallyBy excited old men in a book?

What would you do?The script was irresistible It had everything but sex (Only a randy race could be so coy)And he had all the best lines

Let’s face it we are hooked on this manWe don’t care if he’s unbalanced And bent on self-destructionWe are in loveAnd do not want his senseless deathTo howl our sins away

(Leave my sins alone ManPrivate stuff you know what I meanLet me face up what I’ve doneAnd maybe I’ll grow up a littleWork off the debt you know what I mean)

But no you had to act out this obscenityBecause you were DESERTED right

Left to DIE on a crossBy a God who did not careWho left you ALONE And like you said ABANDONED YOU

So where does that leave usWho have to bear the burden of your painYour self-destruction and immoderation Simply because we love youAnd want to redeem your suffering?

You thought you had no choice perhapsOverwhelmed by a Love you could not controlYou yearned to sacrifice yourselfTo save US!

But it went wrong didn’t itIt never stood a chance And now we see the story had been infiltratedRight from the start Twisted and warped into a horror film And the plot lost itselfOver two-thousand yearsWhen human beings were employed As walk-on partsBit-playersExtras

Blasted by too much Love They couldn’t think straightAnd cooked up fancy notions:Redemption through sufferingSelf sacrifice and self-abasementTo redeem the one they loved so much

So now we are left with guiltConfusionAnd an obscure sense of being in the wrongAnd must endure this daily loss of selfBecause you loved usAnd were on trip

Is this what you want?

I mean what was GOD thinking ofWho dreamt that one upTo give his onlie begotten son

Because he so loved the world

In which case who are weAre we not children of GodAnd are we not each begottenIn our own small way

All I am saying is To exalt the passion of the crossTo worship it Paint pictures of itGlorify it musically That’s sickI mean the man was dying for God’s sake(Or for our sake if you believe that stuff)

It’s too much ManToo much love Too much painToo much sacrificeAnd far too much guiltTime to get things in perspective you know what I mean

Preoccupied with sufferingWe could not leave the wound aloneOur anguish overflowed

Into the nimble little digits we call fingersTranslating elusive fidgetings we call thoughtsInto seductive patterns we call wordsAnd we wrote

We wroteOf a man born under a double starAn exact conjunction of two blazing planetsVenus and JupiterThat seared the sky that night they say Branding itself into a mythBecause Venus means Love rightAnd Jupiter means BigIt is too much ManImmoderate and Excessive

So we wrote of a man whose overwhelming LoveDrove him to an agonising death“FOR OUR SAKE”

No-one wanted thisBecause he was popular and much-lovedWith an unnerving power to transform The lives of those he touched

But the Christ-light possessed him With such volcanic forceHe was blown apart And had to channel it

How to explain to ordinary men Who trust youThat there is a sacred mission in your heartA fierce desire to save themThat burns like a searing flameTo immolate us all?

It is a tricky momentCan you take refuge in the prophecies The swelling wordsOf prehistoric old men in the desertAs you are taken over by the narrativeOf acts foretold and start to re-enact them?

For it is already too lateYou are not acting them they are acting youHistory has you by the throatAs you repeat the words that must be said

Invite dark forces in to doom your lifeInvade your teaching And corrupt it ever after

Did you perceive the sinister at workThe terrifying underside of powerInexorable because unconscious That the message had been already interceptedThe Truth distorted and the Love pervertedIn ways we now see clearly?

Did you not realise you had been hadThat it was a bad tripAnd too late to get off?

Perhaps you did

Which makes us love you more

For it makes you human

(As God had wanted)

It is not likely this man was unmarriedFor Jupiter has Venus in his lapAnd wants a wifeAs in a normal Jewish family.

But none of this concerns us

It does not matter what was true of false In the story that we wroteIt only matters what it did to usFor what was meant to set us free enslaved usAnd what was meant to make us strong emasculated.

We did this to ourselvesWrote the bestseller of all timeGot it printedAnd reaped the profits

These we invested in a scheme of intricate control That we call LOVEThe L wordThe big oneBecause “all you need is LOVE” right

We LOVE you so much We want to infiltrate your lifeMake sure you LOVE each other(In the nicest possible way)Keep your thoughts pureKeep your mind cleanKeep your trousers onAnd think of Jesus(Not the footballer; the other one.)

Any other kind of Love is nothing to do with us And will be repudiated.

With our soul’s rapture we exalt your painAnd make it beautifulThe greatest music and the greatest artHave tuned in to your anguish

This is not just sadistic and perverted

It’s PECULIARInfected by the myth we wroteWe’ve morphed into something else

We’ve been contaminated A virus has wormed its way Into what we are pleased to call our mindsAnd left us witless

Silence at NoonNails us down senselessUncomprehending

Silence at NoonA sacrament in another languageBeyond our graspDense with meaning

With implications for our dwindled stateWe can no longer hear

Silence at NoonWe know not who we areOr whyUnderstanding has left usThe tide gone outAnd we are strandedUnfinished IncompleteSwamped by Eternity

Silence at NoonUnpeopled streets and empty skiesA shred of light fidgets an oak-leafBut nothing moves

Silence at NoonOlder than knowing or unknowingThis held breathTells us that we are nothingThat we are sacredThe answer to no known question

Silence at NoonFor a thousand years the Angelus bellFlooded the fields and woodsLifting the labourer’s face to heaven Emptying skies and putting the birds to bedAnd now we live in a secular ageThis elemental energy holds us stillFor no-one has told the birds that God is dead.

Religions give God a bad nameOne wonders what He thinksOf the latest massacreOr beheadingOr burning aliveOr stoning for adultery

“Don’t drag Me into this” we hear Him mutter

What does He thinkOf the posh men in frocksIn their palacesWith their large carsAnd expense accountsTelling us how to behave? What does He think Of the second amendmentThe God given right to bear armsWhen 7,000 children and adolescents a yearAre shot(That is twenty a day)And six percent die?

“Which God was that then?”

And what does He make of the books He has writtenBest-sellers of all timeIn countless languagesWith contradictory teachingsLining the pockets of publishersAnd frightening readers to death(Sometimes literally)

“Don’t blame Me for this“You wrote the books“You got yourselves into it“You sort it out”

The men in frocks have no monopoly of the sacredWe all have the right to a full moonThis rapture is our birthrightSuch is the splendour of our dwelling-placeIt’s glory reaches even unto the skies

No-one can stop us seeingThe reckless extravagance of a sunsetNo-one can close our ears

To what the small birds are sayingAnd the windy rhetoric of trees

Only we can do thatBy closing ourselves up In small rooms in big citiesAnd looking for salvation elsewhere.

OBITUARY

A juvenile self-assured vigorous peopleHas lost the plotLost credibilityAnd lost the moral high-ground

We were never a Great Nation (No-one is except in the shaving-mirror)But had the huge capacity of immigrantsTo work hard

Save hard And get on with it

But we forgot we were peasants Forgot to keep our mouths closed Our feet on the groundOur money under the mattressAnd gave ourselves airs

We breathed in the EnlightenmentLike oxygen Took off intoxicated into the stratosphereAnd felt like Gods(Houston we have lift off)

Way out of human orbitWe failed the testLost our humanityAnd broke the rulesAll of them

If Pride breeds StupidityArrogance breeds HatredAnd there is no way backWe create our own HubrisAnd it is already too late

(copyright E. J. Ward 2015)