The promises will always materialize if we WORK for them...

will they spiritualize if we PLAY with them?

In every real man a child is hidden that wants to play.
– Friedrich Nietzsche

The quickest way to God...

is to run from him.

Short Version of the Serenity Prayer...

Evarra and His Gods

1890, Rudyard Kipling

READ here:
This is the story of Evarra, man,
Maker of Gods in lands beyond the sea.

Because the city gave him of her gold,
Because the caravans brought turquoises,
Because his life was sheltered by the King,
So that no man should maim him, none should steal,
Or break his rest with babble in the streets
When he was weary after toil, he made
An image of his God in gold and pearl,
With turquoise diadem and human eyes,
A wonder in the sunshine, known afar,
And worshipped by the King; but, drunk with pride,
Because the city bowed to him for God,
He wrote above the shrine: "Thus Gods are made,
And whoso makes them otherwise shall die."
And all the city praised him. . . . Then he died.

Read here the story of Evarra, man,
Maker of Gods in lands beyond the sea.
Because the city had no wealth to give,
Because the caravans were spoiled afar,
Because his life was threatened by the King,
So that all men despised him in the streets,
He hewed the living rock, with sweat and tears,
And reared a God against the morning-gold,
A terror in the sunshine, seen afar,
And worshipped by the King; but, drunk with pride,
Because the city fawned to bring him back,
He carved upon the plinth: "Thus Gods are made,
And whoso makes them otherwise shall die."
And all the people praised him. . . . Then he died.

Read here the story of Evarra, man,
Maker of Gods in lands beyond the sea.
Because he lived among a simple folk,
Because his village was between the hills,
Because he smeared his cheeks with blood of ewes,
He cut an idol from a fallen pine,
Smeared blood upon its cheeks, and wedged a shell
Above its brows for eyes, and gave it hair
Of trailing moss, and plaited straw for crown.
And all the village praised him for this craft,
And brought him butter, honey, milk, and curds.
Wherefore, because the shoutings drove him mad,
He scratched upon that log: "Thus Gods are made,
And whoso makes them otherwise shall die."
And all the people praised him. . . . Then he died.

Read here the story of Evarra, man,
Maker of Gods in lands beyond the sea.
Because his God decreed one clot of blood
Should swerve one hair's-breadth from the pulse's path,
And chafe his brain, Evarra mowed alone,
Rag-wrapped, among the cattle in the fields,
Counting his fingers, jesting with the trees,
And mocking at the mist, until his God
Drove him to labour. Out of dung and horns
Dropped in the mire he made a monstrous God,
Abhorrent, shapeless, crowned with plantain tufts,
And when the cattle lowed at twilight-time,
He dreamed it was the clamour of lost crowds,
And howled among the beasts: "Thus Gods are made,
And whoso makes them otherwise shall die."
Thereat the cattle bellowed. . . . Then he died.

Yet at the last he came to Paradise,
And found his own four Gods, and that he wrote;
And marvelled, being very near to God,
What oaf on earth had made his toil God's law,
Till God said mocking: "Mock not. These be thine."
Then cried Evarra: "I have sinned!", "Not so.
If thou hadst written otherwise, thy Gods
Had rested in the mountain and the mine,
And I were poorer by four wondrous Gods,
And thy more wondrous law, Evarra. Thine,
Servant of shouting crowds and lowing kine."
Thereat, with laughing mouth, but tear-wet eyes,
Evarra cast his Gods from Paradise.

This is the story of Evarra, man,
Maker of Gods in lands beyond the sea.

Untitled

© 1984, Troy Kevin Spears

Atop Sinai,
Moses' nodding and blinking head,
presides over the union of our cruelty
and our humanity.
And he becomes midwife to the mountain,
as she gives birth to a god.
For out of the womb of uncertainty,
doubt turns on herself
and doubt hazards ...
an Absolute.
And the once holy marriage
turns to miscarriage,
becomes History and Witch Hunt.

Hear my people!
The Lord, our Lord, was always, and only,
many Lords.
And what is it that they ask?
That we shall put away these toys,
these Absolutes,
and that we shall not live with the furnaces
of THOU SHALL NOT anymore.

Dinosaurs Come of Age

© 1984, Troy K Spears

1. Fugitives

Dinosaurs skip playfully through the trees,
stealing eggs and hatching lies.

2. Conversion

She sent him an image of herself,
and being the perfect camera obscura,
he sent her back.

She said, MY god's not dead.
He said, YOUR god just hasn't lived enough.

She forgave him this, his first poem,
for all the poems that would have died to be first.
And many poems die trying.

3. Development of a "human" eye

Aren't all gods poems so necessary
that we forget they are poems?
And isn't love
the lust that is lost in thought?

Dinosaurs play in the grove,
dimly dreaming.

The Blind Men and the Elephant

It was six men of Indostan
To learning much inclined,
Who went to see the Elephant ~ (Though all of them were blind),
That each by observation ~ Might satisfy his mind.

The First approached the Elephant,
And happening to fall
Against his broad and sturdy side, ~ At once began to bawl:
"God bless me! but the Elephant ~ Is very like a wall!"

The Second, feeling of the tusk,
Cried, "Ho! what have we here?
So very round and smooth and sharp? ~ To me 'tis mighty clear
This wonder of an Elephant ~ Is very like a spear!"

The Third approached the animal,
And happening to take
The squirming trunk within his hands, ~ Thus boldly up and spake:
"I see," quoth he, "the Elephant ~ Is very like a snake!"

The Fourth reached out an eager hand,
And felt about the knee.
"What most this wondrous beast is like ~ Is mighty plain," quoth he;
"'Tis clear enough the Elephant ~ Is very like a tree!"

The Fifth who chanced to touch the ear,
Said: "E'en the blindest man
Can tell what this resembles most; ~ Deny the fact who can,
This marvel of an Elephant ~ Is very like a fan!"

The Sixth no sooner had begun
About the beast to grope,
Than, seizing on the swinging tail ~ That fell within his scope,
"I see," quoth he, "the Elephant ~ Is very like a rope!

And so these men of Indostan
Disputed loud and long,
Each in his own opinion ~ Exceeding stiff and strong,
Though each was partly in the right ~ And all were in the wrong!

Moral

So oft in theologic wars,
The disputants, I ween,
Rail on in utter ignorance
Of what each other mean,
And prate about an Elephant
Not one of them has seen!

– John Godfrey Saxe