Kundalini Splendor

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Thursday, July 16, 2015

John Berryman--poem 

Eleven Addresses to the Lord


Master of beauty, craftsman of the snowflake,
inimitable contriver,
endower of Earth so gorgeous and different from the boring Moon,
thank you for such as it is my gift.

I have made up a morning prayer to you
containing with precision everything that most matters.
'According to Thy will' the thing begins.
It took me off and on two days. It does not aim at eloquence.

You have come to my rescue again and again
in my impassable, sometimes despairing years.
You have allowed my brilliant friends to destroy themselves
and I am still here, severely damaged, but functioning.

Unknowable, as I am unknown to my guinea pigs:
how can I 'love' you?
I only as far as gratitude and awe
confidently and absolutely go.

I have no idea whether we live again.
It doesn't seem likely
from either the scientific or the philosophical point of view
but certainly all things are possible to you,

and I believe as fixedly in the Resurrection-appearances to Peter and
to Paul
 as I believe I sit in this blue chair.
Only that may have been a special case
to establish their initiatory faith.

Whatever your end may be, accept my amazement.
May I stand until death forever at attention
for any your least instruction or enlightenment.
I even feel sure you will assist me again, Master of insight  beauty.

~ John Berryman ~

(Collected Poems)

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