"Welcome the coming; speed the parting guest."
---Homer, The Odyssey, Book 15, trans. Alexander
Pope, quoted in Bram Stoker, Dracula, Chapter 4.
This world exists, I think, to fracture all
men's lives without the supernatural
intruding. Here, none find a miracle---
no body resurrected, and no soul
to nourish with a spiritual devotion.
Those who accept this will avoid frustrations
airising out of unreal expectations.
A birth and death make shelved scrolls of our fates:
a little pleasure shrieks when our flesh mates;
a lot of hard work buys off some small ease.
Some folks may feel selected for good health;
far fewer, still, can lay claim to great wealth.
Men talk of free will to do what they please,
and then protest their straitened circumstances.
Despite such loud and petulant commotion,
no change diverts the course of random chances.
You, honored guests, have long followed a star---
despite opposing doubt and sneering scowl.
Unlike ships' captains, plotting where they are ,
you seek, in that vast sky, discovery---
new validation of old prophesy,
that looks forward to better destiny,
as subtle grace enters our history.
The thought is comforting, I do agree:
such comfort, yes; but life's facts disallow
it. Nonetheless, with royal courtesy
you shall be welcomed. Hospitality
awaits: King Herod will receive you now.
Starward
[*/+/^]