I.
Where, now, the sun Paradise, we implore?
All peoples-nations stung by a virus
And forced to stay away from each other,
Till it somehow subsides and is controlled,
And we return to our not the same world.
A hurt-lame world – but perhaps more humane.
So many die and our promise in pain.
From faith’s frail fable — we need truth to trust.
Wake Up! We are the saviors of our world!
We’ve a lot of sound real-time truth to trust.
Where, now, the sun Paradise, we implore?
It’s found with the tweeting birds that soar.
O! Please pass the Holy Grail of splendor!
Quick! Over here – with that Ventilator!
II.
Soon there will be loud and raucous voices —
Clergy, pastors, gurus, shamans, priests, cults
Self-Designated Illuminati —
Holy Ones All — about resurrection,
From a Power Almighty in Heaven.
While people die just like rats in a flood:
Many — as untouchables to loved ones –
Must die alone. It’s God’s Judgement they preach,
O! Their Killer God!! Corpses multiply!
Real salvation is science, hospitals,
Nurses, Doctors, aides and custodians.
Responders of patient care on the front lines:
Midst death in life/life in death our saviors.
Quick! Over here with that ventilator!

III
The Old time Grace of God with Prayers answered:
That hypocrisy didn’t save the dead.
That Old Deity is a virus! It Kills!
The only care for human care is ours
Fable fixes not existential frailty.
Some gather guns like dogma to survive;
Congregate against sanity of stay home.
Hope of Heaven becomes hypocrisy!
Their God needs more angels they say. So die!
Soon power ones will cry God’s justice done!
Wake Up! We are the saviors of our world!
Where, now, the sun Paradise, we implore?
We’ve a lot of sound real-time truth to trust.
We re on life-support – science is the MUST
IV.
Ah! The perseverance, now!
Memory and Hope persevered —
And Perseverance itself newly served —
As Love’s meaning, which
Has all these in its homing, its vow,
Its very Paradise in Pandemia now.
So, what is this new world Paradise?
What’s the meaning of life
With Heaven scorched and dead
No matter how many sing hymns
Of loved ones “transitioned to God”?

What is our global Paradise but the sod
For the gardens of the earth, its winds,
To pollinate the gardens of the mind:
With transitions of thought in a clod,
And to the flower bloomed – stressed —
In the caress of time for time’s caress?
Ah! Our Vow of Paradise is now!
It rings from Coral Bells our tone
Forms cathedrals from stone,
Sings with the flowing streams —
Paths the forest with our dreams.

We are a miracle to behold and behave.
We are Earth’s Becomings! The Earth is Ours.
The cauldron over-flows!
We scoop its lusters by blistered hands –
Rubbing its magic to great wands
Of sharp Augurs plowing the force fields
Where imagination tills our need of fills;
Existence formed to global growing-yields:
Realms of gardens and minds cohabiting
For Planet Earth to propel its promise!
Ah! The Promise that won’t be quelled!

O! Paradise Propelled by Promise yelled!
Ah! That loud-proud Perseverance healed!
“The better days ahead” –never yesterday’s normal —
As we stay “ahead” to refresh the glory
Get-on with our breathless breaths of our story,
Of our theatrum humani mundi of Paradise in Pandemia.
O! This drama were we die with tears of love in our eyes;
Rhymes searching rhymes – sands of time on our hands.
O! HOW! HOW heal this Planetary Paradise of Pandemia?
Our Cup’s an Earthen Cauldron O’er flowing!
Quick! Over here – with that Ventilator!
V.
So far, every Spring season plays the same,
Following the rules of its Kairos game;
Winter transitions by the use of frost:
Life’s table set by rules of our Host. First —
Frost can kill the unprotected, too soon new.
Second, it transforms sun’s glistens to dew.
Third, the ever-promised Spring is now due.
There’s a managed care required to protect,
Our joining thrall in glistens of the sun:
Bringing home the promise that feeds the soul.
Where, now, the sun Paradise, we implore?
It’s found with the tweeting birds that soar.
O! Please pass the Holy Grail of splendor!
Quick! Over here – with that Ventilator!

VI.
Now’s the time of rainbows twixt rain and sun,
Showing how life’s studded necklace is spun:
They tell us life is studded with jewels to cherish:
And — Swish — how quickly luster can vanish.
So much as frost and rainbows come and go,
As Summer’s sun fades Autumn into snow!
Ah! Paradise . . . as Random rolls the Dice —
Where hail-storms send wild stallions to stampede
While bedtime stories sleep us peacefully.
This bold, unflinching authenticity
Seems always the once of just once this once,
Hugging the grasp for the greater good of it;
Every once knowing life’s holding embrace:
That real-time Hold of true Paradise.

VII.
So, sanity sustains stability
As faking it flames our fragility.
The pandemic Spring of 2020
Stung all Earth’s peoples to Pandemia;
Our whole planet kneeled into deep healing:
Caught on the run to renew deep breathing.
Chalice one hand – flower pot the other;
Catch sunshine again as never before.
Resurrection yields to Resilience!
Resilience is Resurrection’s core.
Gaia to Pandemia! O! My!
Ecologic Economics! O! My!
Where will be Paradise in days to come?
O! My! This finding again – our way Home!

VIII
What’s Paradise but a Planet’s Poem:
The form the rhyme the tone the bone the home.
Wherever one’s beheld in the embrace
Of beholding what holds our belonging:
Life shines of things coming into themselves
By belonging together! – Now! Now! Now!
Look! There it is! In that moment, that hour!
Focus! See how it holds your day in place.
Don’t rush by! Hold its hand. Feel the grace.
O! Butterfly! Rose! Honking geese in flight.
O! Here, now, is Paradise to explore.
It’s found in treasures to keep, lambs that bleat.
It’s going the distance, howsoever far.
It’s the memory of love songs – the choir.

IX.

Something holds in our minds that tunes our hearts —
Our hearts finding the rhyme that tones our minds.
Times of contagion blare the duet
Though each dawn rises to be the sunset.
The buds on greening trees still hold on tight
Through the lightning storms that come through the night
There are dreams yet to awake tomorrow —
Our sorrows will plow a deeper furrow.
Something holds in our minds that tunes our hearts –
Our hearts finding the rhyme that tones our minds.
Where, now the sun Paradise, we implore?
It’s found with the tweeting birds that soar.
O! Please pass the Holy Grail of splendor!
Quick! Over here – with that Ventilator.

April 12, 2020
….mdok….