Again I found myself awake in a strange place,
lost. It was dark; all around me curled sinewy-
sinuous oak branches, rasping leaves... a river
of night-limbs, laired... entangled in Medusa’s
hair. I was scared... until I felt the tender touch
of Natasha’s fingers on my neck. Where are we?
Home : there’s no more hoboing for you. Where’s
home? In Providence. Yes... there stayed the reach
of Roger’s flinty hand, as ever, toward the dome
of his state’s capitol, below... This is Natasha’s
temple, harbored, hidden in oak – to wash
the ripe earth clean again, survey Jerusalem
anew. You’re going to help me. How? I wondered.
Recall that phrase of Roger’s – ‘til He comes
to tear down Kings & Pow’rs... – this conundrum
you must grasp & comprehend : it is the corner-
stone of harmony. Can exist no peace, justice
or liberty, ‘til righteousness rules in one’s soul;
‘til goodness reigns – reins in the fearful circles
of anxious desire, despair – our own blind circus
of deception, malice, greed... lust, vanity & pride
that guides the whole world into sordid Babylon.
This is Roger’s sense : when Wisdom comes again
she will disintegrate those chains, & raise the dead
to spiritual delight – as he would say, soul liberty.
Not to control the sundry authorities & governors
chosen by men... but to reveal the brooding aegis
of this Agape – & their recovered telos in eternity.