Advent, the Twenty-Fourth Day: The Lost Distilleries Blend – Batch #4


…et mane videbitis gloriam ejus.

The tabernacle lamp, a poinsettia
That blooms within the sanctuary’s cave
Of solemn air, suggests its diaspora
Among the mass of shadows won’t survive –
Its gleaming spokes of crimson lamed by rhythms
Of pulsate night. So earth’s own crowning kingdoms
Are powerless; yet healing spirits pour
Again for us this day of twenty-four,
The last of Advent. Inspiration’s vision,
Like what had found The Lost Distilleries,
Now blends with wounded flesh and verifies
The tiny glow that grows to conflagration:
Tomorrow’s light – no darkness yet has found
A way to overcome or comprehend.


  1. Lansing Priest says

    Thanks, JOB. You provided a unique Advent experience this year. Merry Christmas.

  2. Very unique. See you later today?

    Beef Wellington. Water. Loo.

    In that order…


Speak Your Mind