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Jesus, on the shores of the river Galilee, receives Andrew as a new disciple and evangelist, in the company of the twelve disciples and Vocatio.
In Canto V, Andrew receives the kiss of peace from Christ on the shores of Galilee, to undo the
kiss of Judas, and is received by Vocatio and the twelve disciples. Before the honour of meeting Christ, at the height of his peripatetic ministry, before his betrayal, trial and Crucifixion, he is first transported to ancient Palestine, to witnesses with Jesus, in Bethlehem, the actual occasion of the Visitation of the angel Gabriel to Our Lady in Canto I of Book VI. This is just one grace that 'the eternal pilgrim' receives for climbing, what Thomas Merton called, 'The Seven Storey
Mountain', Dante's Mount Purgatory in Book I, before climbing the Santa Scala in Rome, in Book VII. Then, Christ kisses true love for the Cross Wood into Andrew, confirming him, on his own authority, as the greyhound, calling upon St. Peter (Key) and St. Paul (Malta), in the company of St. Benedict, St. Dominic and St. Ignatius, to build with him, 'the choir-box of light', so that, the new 'poet of the popes' can eternally cleanse both the 'selva oscura' of 1300, and the 'selva opaca' of 2013, for Christ, Our Lady, the Chair of Peter, and all the Roman Catholic faithful.
So, no longer, then within, St. Paul's, the piercing,
Incense of the censor's boat, gone, from my sensing
Nostrils. And, the scent of the damp straw and raw rain,
Filled my head. The soft morning Palestine air, cleared
Around me to see, a lowly serving girl at prayer,
Before, the empty cylinders of circulating atmosphere.
Suddenly, wrapped wings, collapsed coveringly, about,
Her shoulders, to shawl her up, within a permutation
Of feathers, that did splaying fan about her, and the colours,
Were as of a peacock's gorgeous raiment, or, tribal
Joseph's coat of many colours. Two graceful nods, emitted
From her stationary being at prayer; one at reception
Of the winged emissary, the second, to acknowledge
The words of the heavenly presence. Then, audible:
'Let it be done to me, according to thy word'.
And, then, turning, to my prayer companion and heavenliest
Guide, to my pilgrim guide, the Saviour of the World,
Jesus of Nazareth: 'Quid est amor magister?'
I said, and did stay for an answer.
'Love, Andrew, is that which I have
Brought you here to see, for that
Special sonnet, maid girl of Bethlehem,
Who had holisticized within her womb, She, Me,
Logos, kernel seed, of, the Word of God,
The Word made flesh, me -Jesus.
I breathe upon you now, my spirit,
That clarifyingly, you might learn
Of right love: love of my Cross Love,
That is dichotomised in my Alighieri's
'Selva oscura'. If you refract that
From the "confusio-intellectus"
Of the three woods, the Virgin's
One generating seed, will become
The logos kernel in your heart, that it will be
An apple seed, to the pear seed of book-love that
April harbours within her Wight being, when you
Kiss my gracious Logos into her heart, she will kiss
Librarianship into you, and you will kiss libraries
Into her; and, the as divine spark will be fertilized
Within her womb, and, the book will fertilize
The secondary word, -so that, a righteous fire will
Consume your heart and soul, and you will be
Cauterized and clarified, so that the marriage crystal
Of my Logos will be percussed-ingermed into your heart,
Fractured, by Milton's 'Comus' wood, and tempered, by,
Dante's 'selva oscura', and Hebriacum's 'City of God'.
The marriage crystal, is the chrysolite of the
Child of April's 'Othello', that crystal, which
Will be impanated within your heart, as the host
Becomes transfixed within the glorifying monstrance.
The marriage crystal, is, the rewarded servus-labour
Of Adonai, priest-town Preston, and Institute Newman.
The marriage crystal, is, the librarian labour of Peter Lombard's
Paris, buttressing Boniface's Berlin, and Institute British,
And the Logos-Kiss, will subsume Dante and Beatrice,
Paola and Francesca, and Darcy and Elizabeth, that the
Chalice and the ciborium, will meet, at the paten and
Altar cloth, and, the word, will wed the book, in the duomo
This docile Easter Sunday afternoon, all Florentine wedding guests,
Gathering'. And, I looked to the tilled land of Israel, and,
Habitats of Bethlehem, to see the serva girl, Mary, at kneel.
And, I looked to Gabriel, the overwrapped wings,
Wrapping her up, within sheath protection of that
Raiment of wings, with feather and sentinel salute form.
'Fire will consume your very being, and, the fire
Of a New Gospel, will spread like wildfire through
Your veins. Gone, forever, will be the redundancy, of,
That abbey of the Adonai, as my word-servant Sollom,
Has engraced your being, and graced verbum into your
Auricular attendance, that you enwooded, would not labour
Fruitlessly among the unwingborne; you, will be a library
Yourself, via agency, of, my servant librarian, April, so that my
Logos servant, new disciple, Andrew, will full eclipse, for the
See of Peter, my Cangrande Ravenna hosted, Florentine.
I kiss my woodenness, into you, Andrew'. And I looked at him, who
Was dressed, as a rural gardener, as one low at Pemberley's petunias,
With secateurs and occluded pannier, before the lilies in the
Pond; or the olives groves of Gethsemane, with the thoughtful
Smock of an under-gardener, girt around him.
And I thought of the parable of the sower,
Who sowed on stony ground, and sparse seed fell.
'I set the words of the 'Ave Mary' within my pure one
Of the Sabbath Marian vestment Aprilian face, and I set
The words of prayer, into box-sempiverens of my Ark-box.
Their seed, the seed I sowed in them, did not
Fall on stony ground, and it fell on the
Ground of your fertile-crescent heart, that,
The yearning for the tri-fold wood, would be reunited
Into my over-wooded heart, -The Cross. As your
Unwooded heart, was over-burdened, I was over-
Burdened, with that tortuous lignum, that
I dragged, betrayed through Jerusalem, by, baying
Of Barabbas mob. Spirit of Cathedral House Hume,
Has sung barley and corn, for you, for twelve years, that the
Angels of Heaven, would stitch a shadow cross upon your
Disciple back, and, you would accept the lovely labour of the
Logos-vine vinian in the vineyard; as I imputed
Sonnets into your heart, that the abiding Marian,
Still, presence-cloud at Westminster, would
Aprilianize yeastless wood'. And, Christ kissed
The Wood of the Cross, into me, so that it fizzed
And fissured within my core; and I no longer
Yearned for the holy choirwood, knowing the wood
Of the Cross, to be allotted to the proven Lot salt
Of my being. 'Be my choirwood gospeller,
Andrew, with, no vainglory, within, your being,
No careerist religious, nor, no superior's lackey,
Gloria for me, sole, within, your heart, so,
That, you, will full complete, creatio hominis et
Humanitatis, di-orbs, as I intended, begun in them,
My English playwright and my Florentine poet,
Would find completion in wheel, full circle tragedian
Rainbow of you'. And, I looked, at the low maiden, and,
It was was as that pigmentation, many hued colouration
And variation, of Fra Angelico's Annunciation,
Poussin or Brassecco. I wept.
And, that kiss, was not as such as I had known
For the thirty pieces of silver, but a kiss of a
Righteousness, I felt planted on my cheek.
And Jesus, brushed my cheek: 'You are no Judas,
To the Wood, Andrea'. The Holy Spirit, fanned about
Me, and suffused me with his warm cloud, so that I could
Be at last numbered among those, gathered in at the harvest.
And, two under-gardeners, came, from
Rustic row, tugging forelocks, with reed-
Bushes in their arms, and weeping willows
In their hands, and, they placed those
Yew-white woodednesses about me. 'Fashion with
Him, Key and Malta, the choirbox of light,
That we know in Heaven, reap-cull of Moses'
Reed rushes, that, was his, when my Benedict
Blessed my innocens cantor at Adonai, when,
The choirwood, received the blanche of his words on
The yew. There was no taint to that tenor, and the Logos
Received gold and gild upon its stretching filaments of gold
Straw work, wrecked rushes, final restored upon, 'the manger of light'.
'The Christ Colloquy', Book VI Jesus, Canto I, Grattan.
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