Revelation - Alfred Lamotte

[Lawrence Robinson]

Revelation 

Savor Eternity One Moment At A Time 

The old Rabbi said, “Torah contains all revelation.” 
The Brahmin said, “Vedas reveal everything.” 
“The Gospel is the end of it.” said the priest. 

Then I went to the Mosque where the Imam told me,
 “Those old books were corrected by the Prophet: 
no revelation after holy Qu’ran.” 

But a funny thing happened listening to those priests: 
my heart contracted in a breathless withering. 
I felt the juicy marrow dry up in my bones.

So I walked barefoot through my own backyard 
and consumed the first plum bud, 
whose tiny green nipple gushed Torah, 

Veda, Gospel, Qu’ran, inebriating nectars 
blushing up the twigs in my body, Allah 
struck dumb by the fragrance of pollen. 

The breast of El Shaddai could not contain 
the milk that spurted from blossoming limbs 
and bubbled up mushrooms of curdled moonlight. 

Forsythia dripped golden wine, I tippled 
the tulip cup and spilled bright God 
over bluebells and carillons of moss. 

Isn’t every dizzy atom in the wilderness 
singing its song, and every mistake a libation? 
Stumble to your offering, friend.

The original prophet was surely a Robin. 
Then came the grace of the messenger Bee, 
at night, Upanishad intoned by frogs, 

ten thousand little pundits in the wetland! 
At dawn I’m moved to silence 
by the Sura of the Sparrow… 

I cannot fathom the verses of the Thrush, 
feathered rich in the apple tree, so I peruse 
the runes in cloudy entrails of evening. 

Scriptures are for Winter, hieroglyphs of frost, 
but when Spring comes, epistles are pronounced 
in the petals of the hyacinth, the I Ching cast 

in apple blossoms against the sky. 
As long as seasons unfold wings of Now 
from old cocoons, revelation will not cease!

	- Alfred Lamotte