When the Stones Cry
By Perry Robinson
It is “christing”* time, when all eyes turn to the lurking abyss;
As if suddenly our hypnotist snapped his finger
And our eyes became seeing once more;
But what they see is so frightening
That we’d rather he had left us hypnotized.
Better, we think, to have remained stupefied
Than to see the horror of our making
And, awake, step into it . . . .
This is the way the infinite ones entertain themselves . . .
The great high points from which we see once more our great humanity,
Splayed before whatever stark inhumanity we have
So ingeniously devised this time:
Our Camelots, Masadas, Golgothas, Cullodens, and Wounded Knees,
Our starvations, obesities, great plagues, droughts, tsetse flies,
Our tyrants, Khans, presidents, and dictators,
Our popes, bishops, mullahs, cardinals, ayatollahs, gurus, priests
Our lords, ladies, dark knights and white
Our pundits, PACS, pipsqueaks, mega-banks, mega-corporations,
Mega-mega-bytes of fascinating information –
Whatever it takes! Inevitably we infinite ones seem
To arrive at some defined edge.
It’s as if our fascination with lemmings has led us
To try it ourselves, just to see what we would do with the millisecond of choice.
So we conceived a fascinating array of lemming trails to pursue to the extreme,
So we would arrive at the edge of that trail’s yawning abyss,
So we would choose . . . or not.
So fat and full that one more thin mint would explode,
So hungry that one more moment of starvation and the heart would stop,
So many choices,
So fierce the dictator,
So cruel the tyrant,
So greedy the “money man”,
So devious the politico,
So sly the thief in the night
Or drunk the driver,
That to continue being seems futile
And the next step, oblivion.
And amidst the lemming mass comes the “Christing” moment.
When the oppressing force appears before the hopeful mob
And the crown prince steps from the mob to say,
“If these were silent, the very stones would cry out!”
Where hope and despair meet the unmovable force
A “Christ” is smelted out of the heat of human events.
But this is 2012
And the whole world is able to see
How we are all poised on the edge . . . .
What if what we have created this time
Is such a huge, yawning, abyss
That it provides a unique opportunity
For a mass “christing”
What if, with our fine-tuned massive communication,
We all hear the snap of the hypnotist’s finger
At the same time?
And what if, awake, we see that
The edge of this abyss this time
Is just a corner that we can walk around . . .
Turn and just walk around its corner into the
Corner world we have been watching for . . .
Our New Heaven and New Earth . . .
New Jerusalem . . .
Right back into the Garden of Eden!
But by this time the tree of the knowledge of good and evil is dying;
And the tree of life beckons!
[*-- “Christ” and its equivalent, “Messiah”, means simply “anointed one”. The idea that “Christ” refers to some special species of “God/man” is a man-made idea.]
7th of each month, 7 pm
