sw00700a-The.Realm.of.Ibnar

[ Note:  Though not exactly as they were, each following section 
               was once a page in AOL Hometown, a space I've left. ]



 In the King's Garden Chamber

(This is a place for rumination and/ lumination)

Very few of us ever get how sacred each new moment is.
And of those among us who do, it is often (sadly) when we
are well along in our earth passage.  I, Brian Salchert, am 59
(in my 60th year therefore), and I tell you I feel akin to the
cross thief who told Jesus that he believed; but, I am/ not yet
dead.  I am, however, by the going dominant standard, deep
in a cave/ with little water and less light.  Hope?  Did I hear
a voice?  Ah, there it is!  Nab it!  Someonce in my childhood
I/ made up a word: rhodingeedaddee.  It was for me then/
magical/ in its silliness.  It was jester's word, and I was the
jester.  And I was the jester.  And I was the jester.  Small,
sensitive, sexually/ and intellectually different, I was not then
nor am I now at ease with/ most humans.  So now what?


 As I stroll here I am

indelibly aware of the hard disgrace waiting nigh.  But I
must not slip, not quit, not cry.  If my dreaming stops,
however foolish, what then?  Ground me, Lord.  Lead
me into and unto Thyself through whatever pain.  Teach
me--under this melancholic robe I wear--when to play,
when to pray, when to perspire; for human/ I am in a
body that must be cared for if I in this body am ever to
be holy, am ever to know that "by the sweat of of thy
brow" is not a curse.  A dream is only as vibrant as the
dreamer is.  Darkness enters.  Heal my night.
* * * * *
Brian of Ibnar* 
                                * Ibnar is my name jumbled.
               A great length of days after I jumbled it, 
               I recognized in it a new name for God:
                     I-Before-Now-After-Remain.
               Later I learned Ibnar is a real first name,
               but I had already used in several ways,
               ways I eventually discarded.  The name
               for God my spirit clings to.

   §

 Entrances and Exits

It is late, and Sirius hangs in the Dipper's eye.
There is a precipiceat my spirit's edge/ I know
not how to cast away.  So if you meet me by-
and-by, a bone or two upon a shore, remember
only those who know/ what they must know/
are fit to risk/ where few survive.


 Where I Am Today

In an atom space far inside is a joyous child
this May's first Sunday, andmostly because
that crazed adult--whose spirit is not high--
last night with Cedant.com reserved for two
years hence a domain called Ibnar.net.  Such
craggy creviced errors he yet has/ made
along, what chance he has is far and far and
far; but he is bent on it. ** on it. * it.


 Where Are You Today

Here, perhaps; and if so, did you know that the founders
of that wild republic named The United States// did not
condemn the revolutionary ardor which garnered them
their freedom?  It is well there in their Declaration, how-
ever carefully presented.
* * *
Another thought.  Why is it that so many hold 
the second ammendment to be holy?  Is it
because it rightly is; or is it because it passes
a power to the each and every, however 
distant/ from the moguls of power?   



-
Brian A. J. Salchert