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A Cathedral

I will build myself a cathedral
for I may stand equal alongside all
who like me have been called and unfurled
to traverse and transcend a human world.

Hurts, hates, doubts, jetloads of humdrum stress,
and love's vulnerable vibrations we bless,
are the mud, pebbles, bamboo marvels—
comprising my framed transitory materials.

Tossing in turmoils of diversion
and electronic combabulation,
I go entranced, tresspassing the night,
indulging ephemeral phases of might.

Primal paradoxical malice—
I will offer this too in that chalice
in which all the scene and unseen blend
Remembering selves in parts we extend

Streams of light through old-rose tainted windows
will draw out dark corners and shadows,
varied voices will echo bell chimes
to recollect people, the wolves and the lambs.

Bones and ashes are transmuting Eden's
visible contours in God's new havens—
invincible powers of spires and domes
lifting visions away from earthbound wombs.

Tables of agapé now encompass
bread and wine of the millenia enmasse;
As the rulers all melt in the ruled,
in the Lord's boundless heart, all will be pooled.

Flowers spell multiple incarnations,
candles lit synchronize the generations;
transcending ages—unnoticeable—
in a universe rises
one more cathedral.

© Camilo Antonio

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GLORIA DEL CARMEN
Pagkukunwari

CAMILO ANTONIO
A Cathedral

PAUL TAÑEDO
The Summers
We Left Behind
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