What ring may best a marriage?

To walk the streets of gold through pearly gates,
Jerusalem descending from the clouds,
To sing, forever loosed from earthly weights,
And enter heaven, chanting holy rounds,
To see our fellows passed beyond the grave,
Discourse with saints and poets and the like,
To wink at ancient heroes, ever brave,
And meet that blessed land, where is no night-
T’would last a second if He weren’t there,
And glory would be lost for Heaven’s King-
We soon forget the focus of our care,
As wives forget the husband, love the ring.
Our hope is paved not with the streets of gold,
Our glory and our treasure is our God.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-July 19, 2009

I Cupiditas Idonea

(Fit passion)
Afore the age of thinking man began,
A sensual desire filled his soul,
Yet though to ev’ry woman, all men ran,
They found their rapture never to be whole!
Then Founders struck the seeds of newer age,
They found the way to make the boy a Man,
They molded noble men from age to age,
Their passion geared from petty to Divine!
Yet lately modern man unleashed the beast-
To find the glory and the vigor lost.
For passion caged becomes a noble beast,
And whim indulged becomes a passion lost!
If love is to be worthless, treat it such
To be divine, denial is a must.
- Vir Cogitans Americanus
Scribit Dies XXVI Maii, anno Domini MMVII

117 The Ancient Wisdom

Why question ye, the path assigned to man?
The majesty, both simple and benign.
The ancient pattern set was not began,
To kill the love, beget a darker time.
So many years ago, the wise decreed,
The system dead and cold in modern time,
Yet now is clear, ‘twas not done out of greed,
And neither beer, as it did speak a rhyme.
The modesty enflamed forbidden love,
The majesty arose the passion true,
The family was pure, as is a dove,
And man and wife, unbroken, could renew.
The system now decayed was not a curse,
With love and glory flayed, ‘tis now much worse.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written December 18, 2006

114 The Mockery

Awake, ye slumb’ring spirits of the night!
Awake, ye little dove, your lord returns!
Awake, and see the beauty in the light,
Ignite the soul, until your passion burns!
By never-ending slumber were you caught,
The wicked silence of the modern soul,
With foolish merriment you once were bought,
Your spirit, to be lively, was made cold.
May vivid light of beauty shine again!
May bliss of heart and soul be shown in flesh,
Contrast the horrid mockery of sin,
And shine the light of love as from the creche!
Oh truer love, true sensuality,
True beauty shine, and mock the mockery!
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written December 10, 2006