Sun What stands, stands. There are many voices. Still many more— many thoughts on many voices. Prying through from ethereal digital reality into the very real lives of very real people. Flesh and blood. The cry of evil in its infant Olympian algorithmic invention. The light that shines from the east awakes me. The light that shines in makeshift world illuminates primordial East. Is the fruit good or bad, we ask? There are many thoughts on many voices. Let us not stare into this blue-lighted-sun long enough find out whether it is capable of blinding our eyes. Rather, let us take and eat of palpable fruit and tangibility. This is no metaphor, no allegory. Beast What stands, stands. Hegemonic rampage the vertebrae of the beast bending in the image of man straighter, it stands. “Come, let us build our house on sand.” say us men who sell the intellect for profit. The stocks of Hades rise in great trade of mind for mind The sacred heron does not mind to wait still and quietly for the passing of what she cannot sense. No, she prays fervently to God whom she feels in all His fullness of embodied, heavenly glory. Garden Till, till the fire of the garden; echoing paradise, burning in the longing. Soil of the spirit, speaking silently: “Rise, rise above the wicked call of the temptress and the machine. Rise, take and eat.” What the lily sees, what the lily sees when she lifts her eyes above the wheat. Dressing herself for marvelous occasion. The clothing of the grass— into the fiery crucible she goes. In the burning test she grows. Perennial trial; do not pause the peace and passion of thirst for righteousness and righteousness alone. Do not salve your hunger for the garden true.