By: Abraham dela Torre
The Spirit, being Holy, had for His
appearance chosen tongues that sevenfold
descended on the twelve and sanctified
their speech with wondrous words they could not have
invented on their own no matter how
they seventy times seven tried without
divinity’s assent to happen thus.
A manner similar to touching one
whose world was way apart from being whole
and nothing could be said about it as
of angels or of saints no, not at all:
a brokenness such that it shames itself.
The seminar, because it pays no heed
to social graces, standing, or their ilk,
is level to most purposes that aim
to, either out of curious heart or heck,
plumb deep into the core of its behest.
Its openness is only shut when asked
what it proposes to make novel but
no door or window is opposed if will
of body is opposed to soul askance.
For hardened hearts that Moses rued abide
with even those who by the good book swear
and nothing is as what it seems. It takes
a reckoning of hours twenty-four
for inclination’s mettle to surmise
until denouement heretofore discreet
unravels both the bitter and the sweet.