nor knoweth it now

even tho Isaiah It announced

and John echoed Him

yet, there he stood, diaphanous, robed

in Trinitarian regalia, ad-

dressing me, 1^st ever – Meryemana, rapt

swathed in radiance, sensing

the warmth, yeasty, from within as if

Light emanating

from My Throne Womb

about to burst forth, I

let it be, My maidenheart, enLightened

pulsing, Incarnadine Morse Code

through my veins

:  Magnificat anima mea   

   dominum!                              

precursing St. Teresa herself

:  giving what was asked for

   taking what was given

inscribed upon my very being be-

coming, in essence esculent . . .

I heart-throbbed, suffused in delirial luster

:  Totus Tuus! Totus Tuus! Totus Tuus!

for the Word was made flesh

at last

and it was the Beginning

all over . . .

Again

Spirit, our triptych on

her Elizabethan porch stands

empanelled there thus, the scene seen

we three

:  she & hers; the Dove; I & mine

in One accord – of Love Above

while inscribed below, our thrice-

fold litany

:  fraternitas; unitas; caritas

awash alike in the triune font, beyond

our wildest conceptions, paired

miracle births about to be;

the baptist baptized by the

spoken fulfillment of the Old

Testament’s logos from a womb with

a view to

the future Perfect

with Whom He’ll be well pleased, these

twinned tuning forks, My Son’s struck from

within, juxtapositional

John’s R.S.V.P.ing

in concerto allegro, sings from without . . .

their mutual adjacent cadence

afloat in their geminal

sacre couer sacs

spring-fed from their Jordanian reservoir

of our Mosaic amniotic flow in

the natal neo-

ark of the New Covenant where

there’s emblazoned upon the transom

:  veni creator spiritus.

Our pulse I sense, racing in

its Morse pararhymes

:  live, die, rise; live, die, rise;

    live, die, rise . . .

toward the mouth of our eventual

 deltas, and

My Son’s Alpha & Omega til

in principio, consummatus est, futurus in

aeternum

and so shall be, let the worldshine with

fervor, zest, and zeal upon these

 nouveau homme fetalities!

in the City of David

led along the right path

for His Word’s sake                                                                            

in a stable prepared for me

in the presence of strangers

I lie down on

pastoral straw while

my head’s

anointed with goodness and

surely mercy-

ful sweat drops of blood, and

lo, Jesse

and all the heavenly host

they comfort me for

here the Shepherd is My Lord

as His communal blood runs

over ever

the cup of me with its waters

still, now; forever

in His temple

Me, He shall dwell, all

the days of My Life ( is His )

even

though I walk through the

shadow of the Cross

I will fear not.

What

shall I not want?

the first at eight, the last at

thirty-three

the best perhaps at twelve

when for three

days, how long else would He – no

when He

first planted His minis-

Tree in the Great

Temple Hall and sat, enthroned (Who not

   wholly filled yet

   their holy chair [His not yet

   throne]) and surrounded

by the aged priestly throng; not the first

not the last, but

the best Paschal April, for

not their profane

knowledge, but properly taught for

prophet-

izing His Messias’

dead rejection, as His Father’s Business

Man low-

ly death, whence He practice predicted the

un-

lawfull led

without an ear to hear, who

will not then, there . . .

nor in His twelfth year, here