Sermon 32
The Scripture of the City:
"Sometimes cities are stone, sometimes they are love. Enter into me, the ever-unfolding lotus, dream-dewed and radiant. Thought-made streets rush outwards to greet you. Here, stand upon my back. Bridges and roads are female for the weight they bear, the burden. Such am I, prostrate upon my bed, awaiting the bridegroom's arrival. My pennants snap, a prayer, a cliché, speak no words in this moment of unbecoming.
"Look into my pools, fountains, lakes. Watch the dance of light-reeds, swaying upon marble walls and mosaics. Beneath the white-winged rush of heron-clouds, slip off your garments. Do not hide your nakedness from me. The only thing I lack is shame. And even this you may find, down, down, in depth-lost reliquaries carved with forgotten commandments. Step into my cool embrace. I swallow you like a droplet, providing the essence from which all life stems. Trail fingers upon my rippling surface, wrinkling like wisdom-marked skin. Drink deep of me, and never be sated.
"Dry yourself now, 'neath my sun, its heat my embrace. I kiss your diamond-dappled chest, limbs wet with my passing. Let me unwind your hair, pull it taught, pluck melodies from it. Do not wince, all true art springs from sorrow and suffering. There now, let me pick up that tear. I set it high, so all may see proof of my words. Wrap these robes about you, spun of lilies and gold. Walk me, a spiral. And be joyful as you go, for this is a monument to man's tolerance.
"Roam among the markets, peek under red awnings, yellow, blue. Thrust your hands into mountains of spice, inhale their burn. Turn fruit in your fingers, devour its gleam. Beside you walk the multitude, and I. See them cross my face, back, forth, mapping my mind's passages. And with them I am made immortal, their footprints lingering long after. Their life-drive is the dance of light upon my neurones.
"See them stride, heads low, cloaks pulled up. The soul is purified in anonymity. Only alone can we truly know ourselves. They huddle in hovels and tenements, temples and palaces. But I am near, the walls of the mind are paper thin, and my hands press against them, straining to break free.
"Look now at liberty. This is the promise of cities. See the million tragedies played out, the hope, regret, fear and longing. Look at solipsism, the individual mass dancing their spirals. In this neural-numbness am I too found, in the grey haze masking heaven.
"Breathe deeply of the heaving throng, undulations like a heart, like a great chest in the throes of life. This is the tempest-tossed sea of teeth-grit civility. It shimmers in the afterimage, mirage-mantled, blessing transactions and the rattling skeletons of hospitality. It is frustration you feel, throbbing 'neath flagstones and mud. And it breaks forth like a boil, bursts. The pus is a wave which sweeps away platitudes. Look at them shivering, the dispossessed. They are the scapegoat, sacrificed on misdirection's altar. Do not seek to save them. Man will ever find an excuse, even if he must turn on himself.
"Continue your progress. Leap the threshold between profane and sacred. Here rise my temples, gem-faceted, dreaming. Prayer-gates yawn open, yonic, sweet with the nectar of divine ecstasy. Stay for a spell, wash yourself in incense. Raise your arms as I smear on the ointment. Yes, let yourself shine. Your body is my sacristy, containing a universe of its own. Look at the bright-eyed neophytes, eager for enlightenment. All are made one in God, yet they hope She speaks to them alone. We can laugh at this delusion, you and I. Here, have this pomegranate. Bite fully, let the juice stain your lips, I shall kiss them clean. Leave a shadow of yourself as offering then let us walk on, there is time enough for God in eternity.
"Ah! Marvel at the blue-tiled mansions, sapphires in the sun. Do you wish for such an abode? I give one to you. Here, crane your neck to glimpse it all. Many-arched and marvellous, a spread-legged courtesan crying, 'Take me, take me, oh just take me'! Yes, here you may spend yourself, in the shaded garden, under the fronds of ever-green trees. But linger not over-long! This wealth will tame you, sate you. The wolf does not gild his den. It is musk-ridden and destitute. That is a hall worthy of feasts. In the palace dwell the eunuchs of castrated thought. Do not relinquish the stones of your self-hood so easily.
"Cover your eyes, that is enough luxury. Roam instead along the rim. The slums, rising like a rash. Sewer-watered vagrants spring up, smelling coin. No, look till your eyes ache. Is this a failure? Am I responsible for this pain? Do not answer, beloved, words are futile devices. This is the realm of the senses, the effluence of bodies, their groaning tendons, their ragged breath. What can I offer here? A promise. Ever-echoing love, it is writ upon my city, the scripture trailing round and round, a mortar-mantra, all-knowledge's foundation.
"And if you, sweet one, could roll 'round me, moon-bourn, what would you see? My city-body laid out, rapturous, an architectural orgy. Look at the High Fane, a joy-gaping mouth. The leaf-furred gardens and parks, moist, fecund, soil soft and yielding. Penetrate me with your eyes, run them over my domed palaces, gold-skinned, gleaming. Count my garlanded arcades, backs bending over and over, making way for you, colonnades wet and warm. Breathe my perfume, an all-pervading petricor, feathering the air. Your fingers long to encompass me, catalogue the curves and contours of my roads, leading inwards, to my centre, from where springs life everlasting.
"I will flower forever. A chaste whore, paid for in a thousand foreign coins. Ambassadors will learn my language; translate me into barbarous speech, into poetry. The red-crowned king will kneel before me, mad for my touch, my favour. The eight false-gods of the west shall send calamity against my temples, and I shall gather up this storm and make of it rain which will fall eternal. Dance in it, sweet children. Dance, and dance and dance till you fall down, dead, and I take you, at last, into my womb."
The ending of the words is ALMSIVI.