I most sadly confess my sin to you, O Blogosphere. I have been extraordinarily busy with a variety of projects and concerns from my business to personal writing, as well as preliminary reading for a theological conference at Villanova University on Laborem Exercens, the transformative essay of sub-creation by Pope John Paul II. Nonetheless, my pen and mind have not been idle, although I am not ready to post anything major in this blog. I will, however, provide you with a glimpse at my poetic side. You will find below a small poem that I wrote. Note the following:
I'm using the pronunciation of nous to be "noose", not "naws".
I actually use meter and rhyme. Perhaps some day I will rant about why I hate poetry that is nothing more than prose with extra white space. Indeed, I think I will rant about that sometime relatively soon because that entire issue is indicative of what I think is a disordering of art that is related to a modernist (and I believe Kantian) view of beauty.

Like any artist, I don't particularly like to do this but hope that someone will like it or at least have a reaction. Note that it is but a brief labor, not a masterpiece.

But for now, without further adieu:
The Light of Creation

Beyond the rim of future hope
A light burst from the land.
The world held in its motion's breath
As in awe it did stand.

All had been rising to the sky
In conscious glory's path.
The whole motion of thoughtful life
Had striven against wrath.

Disorder was not the desire
Of progress in the land.
It was unity of all things
That gave the guiding hand.

Involuting upon itself,
Creation looked anew,
With central head rising above
The dregs of oldest rue.

The growth of thought burst forth anew
From biologic use
A newer sphere took up the quest,
Uniting in the nous.

The head came forth, looking upon
History's perfection.
The movement could thus turn its gaze
To inward reflection.

And yet the head, thus shining forth
Marred its own destiny.
Choosing not to shine for the world
It closed up inwardly.

But Glory could not concede that
The light should be so dark.
For from this mire, the head would find
Its unifying spark.

The Source of brightness from without
Would shine within the head.
Raising above the mire of sin,
The lamp in darkness led.

When time was full, from nous broke forth,
Radiant from above,
The purest Head of splendor bright
To be the path of love.

The banners of this unity
Attest to Holy Light,
One which will show creation full
Within its loving might.

And so that Head which first did see
The glory of the rise
Of creation from simplest form
Did loosen all the ties.

In this new light, the head could lead
United in Love's use,
Bringing the world its fullest hope
From the sphere of the nous.