Advent~Omega Resurrection -Poem# 10

"Let the priests of the Raven of 
dawn no longer in deadly black 
with hoarse note curse the sons 
of joy. For everything that lives is 
Holy." 
-Wm. Blake 
(1757-1827)  

Raven feather, clime to weather, those seasons of 
unbelief/new Autumn breezes cool vistas unaware. 
Soon to September, fields are burning-light pools in segments 
among the trees-recalling spiral light of winding white 
those tattered stars or snow drift mist in bright columns. Beatific 
inspiration which overcomes/ O inner chambered  
Heart song, out of the well spring-so lonely and long we sing, 
yet salvation finds us. And all matter of inward wandering/ 
I speak to the living and the dead now~ of self strewn 
against this gulf of paradise, behind each empty shadow. 
Out of haunted time, Love or extended Grace 
entwining~hope rain linger/scent of Summer's ending-What willow 
weeps your steepled sky? Whitest tiny butterfly and sunflown into becalming 
winds.O resurrection, O forever [now this unity of Grace informs  
us.]  Raven feather, clime to weather, our radiant day together not  
ended- as we gaze like stars into Heaven. 

-T. Byron Kelly
Late July 1998 
Revised 
5/3/2008