A Virgilian confession by ~mmagueta
I write to share my frustrations. The frustrations of someone who does not find any appetite into discussing anything, at anytime. With an ode I say and I believe, docks ahead and a strait to be crossed; but only with hymns and a hope that never faded. That alone is intolerable of course. The ability to be more haughty than it mirrors, and the desire to be correct – that so often fails me! It so now forces its way in the melodious passive voice of your silvan ditties: I from my sweet fields, and home’s familiar bounds, even now depart1.
The dissonance peturbs me. From where should it come if not from a lack of erudition? So much wasted on this sorrowful inquiry, that so little is accomplished. Just by the perceptions of a reader, without the idiosyncrasies only God and I know about, one cannot tell with accuracy the degree to which I am omisse. How reinvigorating it would be, to be shamed wide at open by someone much greater, and in perfect compliance, cast my tears closer to the ground in profound relief, rejoicing that in a prayer Pluto loses his speech2.
It is now that I must say, from an improper use of language, to express what only by the divine exists. Why has my tongue been so numb? From the fear of God and all his might, the fear I might be forgotten. Not for the prestige of the naïve revolutionary, nor for the ink that just lasts a day; but for doing little in God’s praise.
Raise! In the impetus of the morning light, I must raise from the selfish flesh, for if I build again the things which I destroyed, I make myself a transgressor3. This is the commitment I make. That I shall make myself a better man, for that cannot be, that the hard has already been done, and yet the simple is at odds.
So here my dear reader, if you found yourself in me, I encourage you to shame yourself. Not in the reputation, but to empty the sky at night, and see only the Moon with its borrowed light. Light which remediates our faults, in the dark sky adorned with lamps not hidden but at full display, shining the soul in His image4. That alone might be enough, for despite the lots that is required by the Lord, the principles are all the same: to be correct, sincere and hopeful.
Tengo miedo, Señor, de tener miedo y no saber luchar.
Tengo miedo, Señor, de tener miedo y poderte negar.
Yo te pido, Señor, que en Tu grandeza no te olvides de mí; y me des con Tu amor la fortaleza para morir por Ti. – Prayer of the Queen Isabel de Castilla