With Beauty – By Sea

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cove77Every day I spent with Rena, a thousand masterpieces moved before my eyes – especially when we were by the sea, at our cove, above Jenner.

To behold this seventeen year old beauty was to transcend the two-dimensional canvas. Irene Victoria was a living work of art. My heart broke every time I beheld her perfection – the perfection.

And God created woman. I was no longer alone in paradise. I shared the world with her, my vision was no longer my own. I dreaded the day she would go away, vanish from this godly canvas. Her animation. Her perfect form, complimented and completed the most worthy design. From us, children. God in an eye. We see. We make. Love is the way.

Whe I listen to Judy Collin’s ‘Albatross’ I hear my leather saddle creaking under me as I ride up from the sea. The breath from my horse accents the drum of my horses’ hoofs on the dry summer ground, sending little green crickets scurrying in the gold grass.

I hold the sun in my hand, a pentacle, a brush of my labour, my outstretched design, my heart a many-colored brush, to her side, I thunder.

We would park my 1959 Dodge Corornet on Highway 1, then climb the steps into the sheep pasture. I made Rena walk ahead so I could watch her make her way to the sea in her Gypsy dress, her yellow knit shawl about her, exposing one well-formed shoulder, a golden brown due to our long swims in the Russian River.

When the sheep saw her coming, they moved slowly away, and let her pass. I drank in this most ancient scene, dipped my grail in the deep blue wine of my existence, and drank in her beautiful soul, our soul, the soul of divine pertinence and purpose. I was in love.

And there was no way to say this, to her. There nothing I could do, to capture her and make her mine – forever and ever!

I lost Irene every minute of the day. It was a delicious and wonderous heartbreak. Summoning God’s Grace I dismount my noble steed, and present her ‘The Dream’ This is what we came here for.
This is it! What life is all about, in our most noble of days.

Jon Presco

The lady comes to the gate dressed in lavender and leather
Looking North to the sea she finds the weather fine
She hears the steeple bells ringing through the orchard
All the way from town
She watches seagulls fly
Silver on the ocean stitching through the waves
The edges of the sky

Many people wander up the hills
From all around you
Making up your memories and thinking they have found you
They cover you with veils of wonder as if you were a bride
Young men holding violets are curious to know if you have cried
And tell you why
And ask you why
Any way you answer

Lace around the collars of the blouses of the ladies
Flowers from a Spanish friend of the family
The embroid’ry of your life holds you in
And keeps you out but you survive
Imprisoned in your bones
Behind the isinglass windows of your eyes

And in the night the iron wheels rolling through the rain
Down the hills through the long grass to the sea
And in the dark the hard bells ringing with pain
Come away alone

Even now by the gate with you long hair blowing
And the colors of the day that lie along your arms
You must barter your life to make sure you are living
And the crowd that has come
You give them the colors
And the bells and wind and the dream

Will there never be a prince who rides along the sea and the mountains
Scattering the sand and foam into amethyst fountains
Riding up the hills from the beach in the long summer grass
Holding the sun in his hands and shattering the isinglass?

Day and night and day again and people come and go away forever
While the shining summer sea dances in the glass of your mirror
While you search the waves for love and your visions for a sign
The knot of tears around your throat is crystallizing into your design

And in the night the iron wheels rolling through the rain
Down the hills through the long grass to the sea
And in the dark the hard bells ringing with pain
Come away alone
Come away alone with me.

Jon Presco

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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