Close your eyes to hate,
pretend that in that blindness
there lies a beauty
silent, simple and clean
Ignore the echoes of anger manifest
as abhorrent intrusions
on your serene
and solitary preserve
Speak only to condemn
to deny all sins
as sorry reflections
of depraved souls
and closed hearts
disdainful to see,
painful to hear
and no part of your state
but deserving of the condemnation
you set forth to ring out
in the blocked ears
of the cruel
and callous
who stand beyond the barrier
around your purity
wallowing in their weakness
Do all of that
and be a Saint,
secluded and perfect
immersed in a beauty all of your own,
untouched,
unsullied
and clean
behind iron gates
and slowly clouded memory
But as you rest in clear skies,
floating easy in mind’s fair creation
amidst holy light
and crystalline clouds
refracting peaceful thought
into peaceful light
remember that you do deny yourself
a clarity
and cutting, grinding certainty
that is given free to those
whose eyelids are cut away
by necessary vigilance,
never to evade, avoid or escape
that thing left beyond you,
a beauty far removed
from your serene Sainthood
A beauty which permits no solitude
no escape
no civil silence
A beauty of hate
expressed in unison
with glory drawn
from each observer
and made into palatial wholes
where ideas may live
with a grasp and passion
beyond all you have allowed yourself
and beauty which,
for all your defences,
will endure in universal state
until you open your eyes
and admit that even this evil
has a beauty beyond measure
that no Saint can evade,
escape
or
deny
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