Peter Lilly: Poems

peterlillypoetry · Displaced redemption There was a world, displaced from its axis by repeated tragedies of its own making, as the inhabitants attempt to grasp the credit for it's own creating. An entire macrocosm misaligned by embezzling clutches and throning lusts. Who's history is marked by a needless taking, and just in case, a pious faking to appease a possible divinity as either a patsy or a machine. There was a world, decomposing in it's own folly. Spinning itself dizzy flailing after impervious redemption. And inside that world there was a people displaced from its milk and honey by a ruling superpower. As the globalising tar of Rome spread to paint the Empire one culture, this people had been waiting. Listening in silence for the reason of their plight, Waiting for the sword of a rallying leader to severe their shackles, and the throats of the chain-bearers, alike. Waiting with the same attitude ...

Time occasionally escapes its narrow tube of transport in waves of influence. There is one event so significant it feels like it is ever repeating because it's always unfolding in freshly realised implications, new dimensions of completion and pristine epochs of accomplishment. It is an event of bloody terror, an event of merciful healing. It is an event of violent killing, and event of peaceful giving. It is an event of overwhelming sorrow, an even of heart-deep joy. It is an event of whips and nails, an event of captives freed. It is an event of a cry forsaken, an event comfort for the isolated. It is an event of naked humiliation, an event of shame concealed. It is an event of goodness silenced, an event of amplified perfection. It is an event of blind condemnation, an event of liberating conviction. It is an event of ultimate death, an event of unquenchable life. Time did escape its narrow ...

This is the celebration of: the hinge of history; the spine of the book of the universe; the apex of the temple of the presence of God. Throughout history Humanity has been lost, we have been known by our selfishness, and by our cruelty to humanity. The myth of progress only serves to make one culture feel superior. But this is where things change. The thick skin  of calloused sin is broken and dissolved by the creator; redeeming  filthy flesh  by becoming  what we can now become through him. This is where things change. His un-stainable surface sticks out from within the landfill of sin in every uncompromising step he communicated: God's love; The personality of the creator; Freedom from judgement; Emancipation from slavery of selfishness; Humanities' purpose; And healing from pain. This is where things ch...

The following is a poetic reflection on the Lord's Prayer... Father, Remove the weights that pull our eyes to ground so that we may begin with you, our all. In Heaven, Up: out of the minds reach, above all it is that may come between persons created for your unity. Your name, is so much more important than our names, even its sound is righteousness and light, may we not cheapen it with venal voices. Your rule, here it should be as tangible as there, equip and anoint us, so that we may be your ambassadors. My needs are simple, but as the affluent west cracks and splinters We trust you to feed your feeble servants. Forgiveness: The essence of salvation the only way for us broken pieces to retain heart and continue breathing. Enable it in us to forgive as radically as the pain pierced man of innocent service and ultimate authority. ...