| Merry Meet Guests! |
| Shadow Play With his eyes fixed on Paradise, the haunted Christian blames the shadow, Plagued by his own demons, soul bitten and loveless, he is bound in the sackcloth of pride, in cobwebs and ashes. While there, thrilled to the wild, dizzying ride of the flesh, of phallus and womb, the fresh dew of this world, the red, simple wing of original joy, like the berrying spring of a child's renewal, the Witch slips out of the black diaphanous robe of our common sleep. Behind that half-curtain, lives with the sharp knowledge of danger (Do not, whatever else you may do, be discovered!). Out of that horn of magic, desire, flesh at once richer and paler than ivory is bathed -Look!- in original light! . . . Or are those only the elegant ivory bars of the cage in which both have been trapped: Earth-delighted no less than he with his cross obsessed pain? While She-Without-Form, resurrected again and again, cries out from the nailed thirst of this world to our own resurrection, that single commandment: Love! - O heart's simple name! O first and final salvation! taken from the book "Witch Hunt" written by Devin O'Branagan |
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