I usually write a poem as my song, and I have a kind of Christian Gnosticism unconsciously from the youth. In this blue colt year, I am happy to respond to the Divine Masculine's sacrifice.
I may respond to Yeats's song, too:
The fascination of what's difficult
Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent
Spontaneous joy and natural content
Out of my heart. There's something ails our colt
That must, as if it had not holy blood
Nor on Olympus leaped from cloud to cloud,
Shiver under the lash, strain, sweat and jolt
As though it dragged road metal. My curse on plays
That have to be set up in fifty ways,
On the day's war with every knave and dolt,
Theatre business, management of men.
I swear before the dawn comes round again
I'll find the stable and pull out the bolt.
(The fascination of what's difficult by W.B. Yeats )
I know what Jesus' sufferings is as the New Adam.
And now I would like to respond the song for the New Age:
***
A Dream of Nail
Cho Mina
From the beginning
I was born as a colt in the rock cave.
I have shouldered the bondage of Heaven
Like a stigmata.
And a void suffering with a gag bit,
I have a thorn crown as a quenching.
Between Heaven and the earth
You would be a intercessor with pain
To burn out all absurd in the world.
Bang, bang, bang . . .
I look up thou nailed on the cross.
Every day I am an unknown shadow
To hammering my heart by myself
I am awakened as your nail.
Although it would be burnt out far away
That even the rest shadow of my old dignity
Flying up the Heaven
To follow thy sores of the whipping marks.
I would like to shake up all the empty compliments
And the fame in the world
Into the dusty field of the secular markets.
Although my love toward thou
Who would be burnt up into being hot fire pole
And at last I would be white ash falling into the world,
I would rather be a bitter pain inscribed in thy cross.
In each every dropping sweat
I would be flying up newly
As a phoenix from the gray ashes
***
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