Sabbath Evening Love Feast Becomes a Fresher Pentecost

White peonies bloom:

It seems no other blossoms

Spread petals near them.

~ Kitchi [Englished by Phillip Whidden]

“Beauty is truth, truth beauty.” ~ John Keats

This truth is higher than this April youth.

He holds his hands in praise so all the room

Is vaporized and only he is truth.

Around, outrageously, the music’s bloom

Continues spreading notes as petals, yet

They spread not there.  If fragrance is a part

Of their projections, it can only fret.

The air has turned to Jesus’s pink heart

And Satan has retreated.  Wrists with veins

No longer mean a candle doctrine.  God

Has disappeared.  The Friday world is stains

And nothing else.  The spread out food is awed.

  This one turns mystically, or so it seems.

    Reality has turned to Christ’s hem seams.

©  Phillip Whidden