The Passion of Valentino Santi

I Was A Boy When Love Went Out Of The World •

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Message 2 the Seekers and Sowers

The Supreme Goal
Is 2 see The Divine, The Absolute,
The Brahman en ev’ryone and ev’rything.

Good Luck!

–  PRIEST

Declaration and Demands

[Seated At A Cherrywood Desk En His Uncle’s Tuscan Villa,
The Divine Messenger Puts His Bamboo Quill 2 A Blank Sepia Page.

En A Writing Vox, Born Of Love And Courage, He Authors A Declaration
And Then A Litany Of Demands On The Present World And Its Amoral Pantheon.]

WE choose 2 not defile our spirits with your political bodies
WE choose 2 not be the building stones of an economic bastille
That will enevitably call upon us 2 smith shackles 4 our brothers
And then ourselves

WE choose 2 not do this
WE choose 2 not lie, cheat, and steal
WE choose 2 not have our spirits brought 2 heal

WE choose 2 not fear our neighbor
2 not envy his happiness
2 not covet his dame

WE choose 2 not walk blindly
2 not be blind

WE choose 2 not shed another precious drop of blood
4 the brutes en suits
And striped silk ties

WE choose 2 not covet the purse of our countrymen
WE choose 2 not hoard the pantry’s Ghee
When WE know there are Paupers and Pros who need it most

WE choose 2 not demonise
WE choose 2 not hate
WE choose 2 not be the willing (or unwilling) host
Of an ill-conceived and misanthropic fate

This,
WE choose

This here!
This here!

{Two-Beat Pause}

WE choose Beauty o’er Fashion
WE choose Resolve o’er Blame

WE choose Thalia o’er Scarcity
WE choose Bliss o’er Fame

Thus

WE, the Seekers and Sowers of The Aesthetics Underground,
Demand a great healing 4 a world terribly sick

A world w/out oil (4 the lantern’s wick)
A world w/out flow

A world w/out light
A world w/out soul

{One-Beat Pause}

A world w/out poise
A world w/out rarefied aire
(4 the Righteous 2 breathe)

A world w/out maidens,
Tall, blonde, and irresistibly fair
(Much too fair 4 Love’s Rogue 2 leave)

{Fingercymbals-Twice}

WE demand Prometheus be unbound
WE demand Atlas be given wings
WE demand Medusa be adored (4 the divinity she is)

WE demand the right of our Heav’nly Grandmother’s apron pouch
2 house a bevy of otherworldly things:

Golden Apples,
Figs and Almonds and Pomegranate Seeds!

WE demand a new Garten 4 Adonis
And a new grazing Skye 4 Apollo’s fiery steeds

WE demand that Mercy like Misery
Be given the freedom 2 walk stride 4 stride

From dusk ‘til morn
From tide 2 tide

{Two-Beat Pause}

WE demand that ev’ry Prince and Princess born
Be granted the means 2 re-di-rect their personal lot

WE demand an arrow thru ev’ry heart
And a shakti 4 ev’ry maverick, en the thicket, caught

Thus

WE, the Seekers and Sowers of The Aesthetics Underground,
Demand a great healing 4 a world terribly sick

Sick of Sorrow
Sick of Ignorance

Sick of Tyranny
Sick of Pain

Sick of Division

Sick, sick, sick
. . . at heart

© The Herder 20Seventeen

A Herder’s Wish 4 20Seventeen

The tiniest girl w/
The tiniest freckles and
The tiniest palms en
The tiniest garten embraces
The tiniest flower

Whose petals emit the Light of
A billion shores w/en
A billion worlds w/en

A billion stars w/en
A billion galaxies
.   .   .   or more

© The Herder 20Seventeen