R.E. Slater - The Divine Poet

 

Dante and Beatrice at the gates of Paradise, by Dore

The Divine Poet

by R.E. Slater

"Ecce Vox antiquior - 

non mea, sed iam mea fit."

"Behold, a Voice more ancient than mine - 

not mine, yet now it becomes mine."

In every divine moment the Poet sings

restless life into being with love and purpose...

every syllable a sunrise, every phrase a living stream,
each note freed the silences of deep time, birthing new life
spilling from darkness's voids where dreams had once

slept dreamlessly the dark lays of the soul.

Uneasy dreams trapped in waking cycles

of sightless slumber in rising, cresting crescendos

restless as the moving seas surging landfall's rocky shores

thirsty earth's barren soul resurrecting to light and life

in throbbing, pulsating florid songs of beauty

on every rising, steepled wind.

Tumbling, stumbling, windblown flourishes

harking mere sparrow's flight or nightjar's incessant

evening trilling echoing creation's restless heartbeat flushed

poetic crimson songs as unstilled as spurned desire

striving to be, to become amid the fraught

jumbled landscapes of life.

But not all songs nor poems are ever so

gilded or gentle... each beauty borne, each jagged life

birthed, comes stitched in grief and flame - woven cruel

threads of dissident strains perhaps attended by the threaded

companions of mercy and compassion though

too often alone.

Fellow travellers without which each

living poem of grace and purpose is too easily

flung away... like fated castaways upon evil, unjust seas -

For every creature is a living line drafted in divine mystery

made in pain, strengthened in cause, ever yearning

love's massing verses to sing, to dream, to wake.

R.E. Slater
April 1, 2025

edited April 19, 2025

@copyright R.E. Slater Publications
all rights reserved