ILLUSION

Divine luminescence haloes atoms,

its clinquant call 
wilful earthly matter does not heed.
The Light seeks a vessel,
ploughing through palls of man's
darkness, craving a worthy abode.

How it hearkens for its own echoes
in human hearts! Seldom, it
finds ungrudging hosts, munificent of
spirit, as disposed to
endure, as to give succour.

Through such instruments of peace,
it chants paeans as
ancient as Time to Truth.
Sacred vessels, rarest conduits, bear
epistles from distant
universes, seek to ease man's burdens.

Each breath such draw from realms
of Light everlasting,
sculpt, paint, pipe, panegyrise its glory.
Of evanescent pain they apprise,
of unabating joy, empyrean riches
and unceasing celestial tunes.

In mortal trials immured, by weal and
woe rendered severe, man
scarce heeds their sacred revelations.
In labour he seeks oblivion,
in obfuscation, comfort,
in self-love, reality, in illusion, salvation.

What would elevate him to ecstasy who
so ardently cleaves to
chains that tether him to the rack?

© 2014 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: jamesturrell.com