An Exhortation: a Prose poem

An Exhortation

Partly locked in my mind and a slave to emotions spiritually speaking, all my love and support to you knitted flower, special struggling, children of chaos. Hoping you can adjust to the inevitable incursion of pandemonium, and find some manageable order you can direct and order in your fractured psyche, and by its expression find the strength to believe, support and find love instead of resentful duty with respect to your family. But you also look after yourself when you make difficult choices and sacrifices large or small. In the transcendent sphere you are doing the work of the manifest cosmos. Take solace and strength in that: speak truth and shoot well with arrows - that is the aim of your highest ideal.There is a natural order connected to conscience and self mastery. Be your best and solid upright self and good things are increasingly probable to happen. And if I'm wrong what is there to lose? - a few weeks of diet and fitness and kindness. No killing or scarring of selves. At least you maintain your self respect and a humble awe in the face of dark and unknown forces. Never disbelieve or trespass in the light: It brings life from the void. Aim high, set your arrows once more at the sun. You only generally regret the things you could have done but never got round to doing. We are here for one reason. I think it is to further the psychic evolution of our in-built deepening morality, reassessing justice and bringing forth the words, the Word, the logos, the light. To turn the material of struggle and vacuity and pain into a natural magic. The old rituals are stultified and crass. We may stake our own sacrifice. We enter the world with an open mind, a generous heart, and we can share our insight. Truths more deep and fundamental than this I challenge you to find. I wait on the clock, and am willing to concede, if someone can argue the case differently, and make the case for the opposite temperament, I am forced to quote Minchin and lie on my back, carving 'fancy that' on the side of my cock. Attend to your hearts/the heart, my pretties. And let your mind only facilitate what it truly means to grieve. What it means to love. We are here too briefly.