(untitled)#60

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walking cobbled streets

grown from Templar’s founding – now

echo with their ghosts

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ancient towns standing

testament to existence

buildings as headstones

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which ones shall we slay –

will god recognise his own

let his will be done

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is not mother church

a place of refuge – so lies

each genderless body

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even now decay

models durability –

our impermanence

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Now a modern city of ~ 75,000 people, the Massacre of Beziers took place in Languedoc, France, in 1209 A.D. The city was sacked by crusades against the ‘heretic’ Cathars and accounts suggest up to 20,000 were put to the sword.

Churches were broken open and those that had sought refuge were slain – up to 7,000 in the Church of St. Magdalene. The crusaders did not respect the supposed inviolable sanctity of church ground.

It is alleged that when asked how to recognise the heretics from the townsfolk, the Abbot replied ‘kill them all – god will recognise his own’.

Rather than God and Satan, Cathars considered that perhaps there were two gods – one good, one bad. The papal church viewed this as Satanism. The Cathars viewed the humans as the encapsulated souls of genderless angels. Perhaps they were right for the subject of sex returns to plague the modern day Church.

We shall never know their true beliefs as Catharism was destroyed along with most of its relics and works and their religion likely forms the root of the word ‘catharsis’ – to discharge pent-up emotions, probably from the torture that was used to encourage the betrayal of friends and family, a lack of zeal for which was considered to be a lack of commitment for the One True Church – or to expunge a problem.

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(untitled)#58

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oh – don’t miss a beat

my heart of glass – fragile!

encapsulated

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plants remaining still

while all about lay strewn

fallen petals – shards

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oh sky overhead –

where is heaven for flowers

seven colours meld

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falling from the sky

rinsing spectra from the clouds

to lie upon snow

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snowflakes upon snow –

trails I once walked – blanketed

run-ways to the stars

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(untitled)#53

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winter feigns until

finally you realise

how tight its ice-grip

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In response to Zoya on the theme of snow

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(untitled)#52

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each hexagon falls

reflecting inwardly

of its own nature

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innumerable

tumbling white upon white

snowflakes

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chaotic spin – drift

rarely settling on this earth

lest we should all melt

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haiku-heights theme: snow

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The Mists Of The Sea

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Cloud maps shifting, shifting slow

across the heaven’s ethereal glow

and all about are myriad stars

falling to earth their sunlight far

has travelled long and travelled fast

to fall upon this beach at last

a snow-dome then, of frosted glass

the snowflakes whirling, whirling past

and a misted form – no detail lacking

comes overhead so slowly tracking

through obsidian depths that oh- so deep

will swallow any light and keep

but expiring is the gasp of night

as light brings dawn – a golden sight

and now I stand heart-heavy, sore

a giant wave rises – softly breaks ashore

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