In the beginning was the Song

and the Song was God

and She was the Song.

God sang the worlds into creation.

So when She sighs, She sires.

Then life happens, and shit happens,

and all manner of things happen.

This life is what transpires before we expire,

lying broken, battered, bones shattered on the mat…

but before… before you are lying in state… intestate.

before it is too late,

we are on a mission, walking on a wire,

listening to liars, frolicking with friars, dancing with dryads,

we are on fire, on a pyre

misjudged by our misunderstood magic,

then sliding heavenward higher and higher.

Azure and ArgentThen our mission is to guard the living,

guide them in forgiving, blessing the barren land,

the dry cracked earth with gentle rains

the essence of evaporated dreams and steam

of holy water from the timestream.

When winter splinters and surrenders,

we bless the remnant, the rag-tag,

the stressed, the all-that-is-left,

with sudden spring showers,

and those who remain blessed, maintain that they

can see salvation in the blatant beauty of a flower…when?

“No one knows the day or the time.”28650609014_539576ddb6_o

But then She

will find me free in a place we used to be,

sheltered on all sides with safe cliffs on three

and the water on one, in the lee of a cove.

In that cover we wait.

We wait for lovers wiser than we,

or wiser, at least, than me.

Yet still you may find me, says She,

when you search for me with your whole heart:



And may we find ourselves at the end;

after we’re buried, carried along the path,

and at the end of the path, a clearing:

once a field of clover now covered with roses since.

We find our freedom then in becoming light and sky

twinkling like the fires of distant suns

with the same spark we find in young shy eyes.

One with the argent and the azure,

the blue and the white of clouds and sky.

Heaven is never having to ask “why?”

Over what once was a field of clover,

now covered with roses since…

Over this carpet of purple and red petals

Rises the brightest whitest moon we have ever seen,

and we hear the song we have become,

listening long into the eternal night at the silence,

we listen

then whisper

with wisdom.


new profile scruffy


Jefferson Holbrook, DSC, received a Doctor of Science in Communications from Tudor College of Earlscroft University and has published numerous essays, articles, poems, short stories and blogs. He is also the author of two collections of poetry. He lives with his family in the southeastern United States.


© Copyright 2016 Jefferson Brian Holbrook and Kingdom of the Son. All rights reserved.


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