The Poet and the Secret of Beauty

In my most sober moments
I feel the need
to immerse myself again
in the waters of the womb
that carry me like the sea carries an octopus,
sustaining me with the nutritious goodness of the milk
of the mother
who brought me to light
one April morning
when the fragrance of violets
hovered over the earth
and the Easter lambs
in the fields
prepared themselves for sacrifice
on the altar of the Son of Man!

Like a young baker
I knead the dough
of my mystical beginnings
and add the yeast
of my first memories of childhood,
and I take the dough
to the oven of passionate love
so that it can rise!

And from my baking
will be born bread scented
like a hymn of love
sung from the heart by a choir of young girls
still at the stage
of adolescent dreams!

By nature my soul inclines
towards religions whose essence
has not been sullied
by the poisonous throng
of human customs
and compromises!

For I share with the common people
both a belief in Mary's immanence
and in the union of Christ and
Mary Magdalene!

And I firmly believe
in the transcendence of the Master
of whom we are all

It's a transcendence
often as gentle
as the music of a shepherd's flute
in the mountains of Arcadia,
but sometimes so flamboyant
it has to be played
by trumpets
like the triumphal entry
of the souls of the righteous into Paradise
led by Dante Alighieri
whose knowledge shares the substance
of the flesh and blood
of the Fideli d'Amore!

Yes, I am the singer
of the divine
that delivers itself to me
through the heart of the Beloved,
like a secret of beauty concealed in piety,
a secret she softly whispers into
my ear
or a secret I glimpse in the shared dream
of a night of love!

And I claim that any thinking man
is pitiful
if his scepticism, that deformed fruit
of the desecration of the Mystery of Love,
stops him immersing himself again
in the hot sea of a woman's womb!