“If you would understand what I am, know this;
all that I have said I have uttered playfully,
and I was by no means ashamed, thereby.
I danced.”
Jesus Christ
The Acts of John
The house of the soul is a mansion.
There are no walls in the house of the soul,
no halls, no doors, no floors, no ceilings.
There are no coat hooks, no hat racks,
no closets, no cupboards, no porches,
no furniture, no calendars or clocks.
The house of the soul is out of time.
The roof holds nothing celestial out,
The foundation allows everything earthly in. .
The architecture of lacuna.
The house of the soul is empty
which means it is full of space.
Undercurrents stream through this void,
birthplace of phantasmagorical dreams,
summoned, unsummoned, realities imagined.
The world is loose
in the house of the soul.
The house of the soul is haunted by ghosts,
ancestors alive in the movement of bones,
stories never overtold in new telling,
images displayed in the house of the soul,
paintings and photographs, maps and globes,
costumes and masks for dramas to be staged.
There are memories in the house of the soul,
some of them ancient, some your own. .
Disparate things concurrently occur,
a place for play, for comedy, for tragedy,
a play on words, wurds, magical werdz,
evocative, provocative,
foreplay and aftermath,
insight and delight.
Jesus, the magic poet,
played a metaphoric joke
in the house of our soul;
water confused with wine,
wine confused with blood,
bread confused with body.
Everything is also something else.
The joke is still on us.
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lacuna – (Latin) a hollow, a valley,
confused – (Latin) con = with, fuse = to unite – to hold together