Fixed Song

by Obi Martin

I see the disparity here
and would despair of all comparison
of the Word and of men.

oh wild one of beauty,
extravagant inventor of
endlessly embellishing decoration
heedlessly intimate extender of mysteries
elaborate lover of particulars
and merciful master of infinities,

oh cantus firmus
from whom all blessings flow
from whom all form is found
from whom creation rises
whose cloudscape footprints
walk our tallest skies
whose thoughts are brighter than
a million suns above our own
yet whose faintest finger tips
have left
indelible prints upon our hearts

though this judas jury would despair
we will not rest until we are convicted
sentenced and condemned completely
of your blindingly elusive guilt as author,
from our distance be acquitted,
with your final and beginning
face become acquainted.

The times that Obi Martin feels most alive come often when he is reading or writing.

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