Yes, I’ve done this, too. It’s not an illogical reaction. If something is devastating, you can explain what happened by enormous guilt cast upon yourself. If you are rocked by feelings of betrayal, it’s hard to understand that other person as far more complex than your retellings and remembrance would remind you.

Have you done something for anyone without your name remembered? Was it something profound to that person, or would you have known that? Were you recognized later, or were you vaguely memorialized with or without your awareness? With scandals seemingly emerging one after another, sometimes the hidden and not so hidden deeds done with good intentions are brushed aside in favour of the scandalous.

You wear no crown or hold sceptre in hand
Your tales, they fill me
Like love in the sands.

As ash and dust, with plenty for trust
Birds seek honey, and bees are smushed.

I want to write, I listen to feel
Without cacophonous women
Repenting my keel.

If your love is ambivalent
Grind stars to icy crush
And wander the Dream
Relive snow into slush.

Sister, you lied,
For stars long have died.
Spectres winked at you
Across our divide,
A litany in squalls replace
My stars in your skies.

Emerald wears no robe and diamonds break not their rods.
Time’s stories, they thirst me.
Searing Eternity’s sands for a coin,
A pearl to offer with our Dream-swept land.

Bought a cookbook today, one of those Company’s Coming selections I’d pore over in Zellers. I’m excited. I can mess around with recipes and alter them. Holding my ground that vanilla yoghurt makes a delicious pasta sauce base, depending on the dish!

And here I saw a longed, shaded divine
Hear that? The Bride Lady is weeping, is weeping
A polished companion and fields to dine,
My Lady is searching, is searching.

She’s paused in her walk through my glittering aisle
The Bride Lady is mending, is mending
An altar steals my eyes; burnt finger, smile!
My Lady is standing, is standing.

Welts for my ignorance, light-flung Latin’s chime
The Bride Lady is speaking, is speaking.
“Would you, my guest, take in your style?”
My Lady is sending, is sending.

This is one of tasks the Bridegroom asks Her to do
Sending, and sending
My will to arrogance, and with feud
Keep calling; seize calling.

“Look upon the oblation of Your Church …” I prefer the Mass to Adoration. I spend much time lonely with You. How wonderful it is to be with faces turned to our altar. “Look upon the oblation of Your Church …” How happy we are to be with You, O Lord, how joyful we are to look together towards You. Our Body is Yours; welcome home, dear and awful Master.

Faint moons light droplets
Crisp and brisk. See your call.
Tendrils uncoiling the feather’s sheath.
Snow roses strained and toil;
Turned their falls,
Ushering wisps and suns.

Gurgling, bubbling dews. Frothy clouds and mosaic mists.
That verdant shaft beams fro and toward.

“I dreamed this.”

— Oh? What did You dream?

“I dreamed these.”

— Wrestle with glances, coy Your thoughts be.

Begone, your doubts, to how you’ve seen
Come, lead before us
Your Dream glimpses keen.

Fire so lovely, lighten one’s sheen

— “I’m warmed here tonight. Tomorrow’s Your dreams.”