Inspired by a forceful meditation on light that Elizabeth Prince has posted, I am offering this for the last Sunday in Lent. Its from Eliots unfinished medieval performance piece or whatever it was going to be (part of some festival, I think) called Choruses from the Rock. The soul of Man must quicken to creation. Out of the sea of sound the life of music, Out of the slimy mud of words, out of the sleet and hail of verbal imprecisions, Approximate thoughts and feelings, words that have taken the place of thoughts and feelings, There spring the perfect order of speech, and the beauty of incantation. We thank Thee for the light that we have kindled, The light of altar and of sanctuary; Small lights of those who meditate at midnight And lights directed through the coloured panes of windows And light reflected from the polished stone, The gilded carven wood, the coloured fresco. Our gaze is submarine, our eyes look upward And see the light that fractures through unquiet water. We see the light but see not whence it comes.
Posted on: Sun, 06 Apr 2014 16:41:07 +0000
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