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The Dark Crystal

(x = space)

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The Dark Crystal

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I simply thought of glass

A piece of glass

Dark purple or some such

Through which to see

Thus darkly

That

Like the shadows in the cave

Is all we get

For now

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But Saint Paul

Might have meant

A mirror

For a glass

As it were

A looking glass

That has those dots of age

All around

And in the middle

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We try to see ourselves

We can’t

Maybe when we’ve grown so far

No

Not even then

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The glass is cleared

At last

By faith and love

And maybe transformation

So that maybe

We are ready

With new eyes

More than our senses

Or clarified

So that

All things look new

In truth

Discovery

And life

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C L Couch

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1 Corinthians 13:12

12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

King James Version

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Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

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Haze

Haze

(through the unlooking glass)

 

For now, we see through a glass darkly

So we’re told

I imagine it is made of amethyst

Like looking through dark purple

Maybe there is a shape

Maybe movement

On the other side

Nothing we can know for sure,

Which makes faith the only alternative

Not for looking but for living

In a place where definition

Has no clarity

But must be visited

(we are here)

And traversed from

A pole of birth toward the pole of

Death and what comes after,

 

Half a world at least

Though maybe at its zenith

(or the nadir)

There is a launchpoint

Upside-down—

Maybe the dark glass is an asset here

Forestalling disoriented feeling—until

Right side up again

We are in something like

The sea of stars,

 

A passageway toward

Our arrival

For having everything we needed

Without regret

And with clarity of looking, by the way

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Anh Vy on Unsplash

Chinatown through the looking glass, kidding, just a freaking hole from the iron gate.

 

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Reach

Reach

 

I’ve been drafting

I’ll try one more time to get it right

It’s not that I’m miffed

Far from it

(and how much would that matter)

I simply want to pierce a little

Just a little

A slice of shard

Of the dark glass

I don’t have a method, really

An art or a science

Theory of a skill

But I have a desire

Not to prove a staff can be a snake

A stone turned into bread

Angels dancing on a pin

(it’s not merely an exercise)

 

It’s not merely an exercise

I want enough

To tell another

That faith might be unseen

Unheard, untouched, and so on

But that it’s evidence enough

Understood, felt, guessed-at

So that we might

Talk about it

Or simply live

In having it

 

But here’s a thing:

The process is at best

A matter of unseeing

Untouching, untasting

That if, really, our senses

Could be quieted enough

(just some—I’m not recommending

deprivation tanks)

We might know

Through the intimacy of knowing

That our senses have

An ally

 

That we have an ally

It might be an angel or

A second guess

It might be real enough

For jazz or maybe

A hit toward the backfield wall

 

It isn’t only us

Not one by one

There’s something to cooperate

In us

That can reach out

And understand the other

Not so alien

I evangelize, excuse me

Take me or leave me

And I’ll understand

(either way)

 

You are beyond me

Yet there is something

Here

Call is a bond or simply

The pleasure of acquaintance

But if there is ineffability

To touch

(without hands)

Then there might be something

More

 

That’s all I’m saying

Now, I’ll listen

 

C L Couch

 

 

Image by Vytalis Arnoldus from Pixabay

 

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