Santayana’s Christmas

“There is no God and Mary is His Mother.”  ~ George Santayana

For Linda Pervier

The flakes fall white. They form without a creed,

   Savonarola’s robe without the black.

.     These make the leafless landscape supersede

….    The pureness of the monomaniac.

….      The cleanness of hasidim’s chants and shawls

..      .Seems far too worldly in the realm of snow

….. Where branches, fences, boulders, granite walls

…..Become a prayerless pianissimo.

..  .Like nuns with softest blankness for belief

..     The drifts grow sleekest from nirvana’s whites,

        Agnosticism curved round doubt’s relief

      Created with smooth concepts from thoughts’ heights.

… The flakes die meaninglessly in drifts, deep

.. As shapely dreams in atheistic sleep.

 

by phillipw | Nov 7, 2019 | AG, AT, SA | 0 comments