Below Cathedral Peak

Alone, I camp below Cathedral Peak – God, I know you’re not whom we say you are and you should have a good case for slander – What fantastic tales we tell about you; I wonder if the more nonsensical, absurdly makes you more believable. As the night sky ascends from below until only the mountain’s white peak glows, I perpend how you are our double-bind – Antithetical, yet inevitable; omnipotent, yet shirking the onus of sin, disease and immorality. I have back-tracked my last fifty years from the convenience of nihilism and of nullity which once embraced me; I loved that luxury of arrogance and conceit to everywhere forswear faith. Over years, I’ve shed those simple vestments to now plea the argument’s antipode – but not Faith. What emerged is a mountain from igneous intrusion and ascend’d within until it now glows as beacon. I, a conjoined blind man with elephant unable to wrest the entirety, but these mere three aspects of your being: I do know of your love; your love of beauty and your love of life. These would and could not Not otherwise emerge from the darkness and the absolute void of space. Nullity is too facile and stays so unless there’s more – More, for black begets black and cannot create something from nothing. One should not grow old without seeing that there is something; that an is, Is; a wisdom and grace that originates. It is hard to deny both denial and a god who cares for prayer, penitence and sacrifice. Here, below Cathedral Peak, an epiphanic edifice, I see god as nurturing and maternal light acclaiming whatever progress we might. From such care transcribed, we resolve the angst of our double-bind and write of new grace for both child and parent to embrace.