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And Coleridge today...made me laugh. Likening God to the ultimate poet. Raising what some consider to be nothing but aesthetic charlatans to the status of deity...the ultimate synthesis of creative force and reason

And I struggle to grapple with one instance of beauty.

(Itapos;s rubbish but claims no more...reading too much stuff on 18th and 19th century to be terribly electric)

Go ahead and call me a dogged aesthetic.
Standing from this angle it might as well be the case.
All I see is the sharpness of a glisten,
The pang of human eyes.
I comprehend no more and am cut to the quick.
Praying to the deity under my breath--
A prayer to continue preserved in an unreal instant,
A memory of dazzling sensation.

And for all my piety I cannot recreate one moment,
one fraction of that beauty.
Reason degrades to a song repeating over
and over again in my ear.

I have stepped up to the altar and revealed my nakedness,
With the knowledge that I cannot utter a single syllable
To express the glory of one mite of creation.

I cannot name a single word in your face.
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