A world of rock weeping water,
Limited light glistens on stone,
Longings for that which is other,
Resonates through flesh and bone.
Yet here we stare,
Our lives threadbare.
Ever the fires in the equations,
Kindle in lives and galaxies,
Yet manikin-marketer's persuasions,
Ever beholden to the orthopraxy,
Words without sight,
The day is the night.
As the blind speak of elephants!
What is grass, what is green?
Frail knowledge never recants,
Wispy certainties never seen.
Life without form,
In fiction adorned,
And lo, the philosopher's quest,
A path oft hailed in hemlock,
Neither quite reaches the crest,
Nor finds the keys to unlock,
Souls in shackles,
Locked in manacles,
Seraphs, Saints bring a salve,
And shepherd into the real,
Of past darkness absolved,
Awakened walk free and feel,
Upon the grass,
A holy mass,
- Robin Parry
- Robin Parry is the husband of but one wife (Carol) and the father of the two most beautiful girls in the universe (Hannah and Jessica). He also has a lovely cat called Monty (who has only three legs). Living in the city of Worcester, UK, he works as an Editor for Wipf and Stock — a US-based theological publisher. Robin was a Sixth Form College teacher for 11 years and has worked in publishing since 2001 (2001–2010 for Paternoster and 2010– for W&S).
Monday, 10 August 2009
"Plato's Cave Within A Cave" by Michael Thomson
Here's a poem from one of the talented Editors at Eerdmans, Michael Thomson. It is based on Plato's cave allegory.