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Notes on the Battle of Lepanto
Through the clouds and the smoke
come the Bucintoros
floating on pillars of marble
floating on azures
on gold
carried by the gauzy raiment
of cherubs and seraphim
charged with the magnetic pull of angels
the animal force of winged lions
They fight in the stomach of the world
they struggle in the minds of creators
they return to impossible palaces
decorated by the hands of demigods
they dance en masse
in the antechambers of Paradise
they call the saints
and the saints approach
they mingle in a nebulous firmament
bodies entwined
eyes illuminated with a Dostoevskian ecstasy
they reach with towers and bridges
into the skies
across the waters
they reach into the vast golden interiors of eternal space
with the fervor of pilgrims
peopling their dreams
with a zoo of holy creatures
they dance with masks
and bow to nothing
save the fallen stars of Earth
they calculate the laws and forces
of the universe
and turn them into visions
rich with harmony
they worship with their minds and bodies
with the heart's keen sense
of God's desire
In every particle of faith applied
in every color
every feel of shape
every kind of light
that fills the eyes
they bask and meditate
nothing human is beneath them
in the darkness they torment each other
without mercy they fight
and the saints do not frown
when they pray
they lie down on beds of jewel-encrusted crosses
they shut their eyes
and survey their kingdoms
they moan in their sleep
and give commands
to their senses
the bells ring once again
and they awake
to the everlasting thought
that truth is beauty.
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