To praise the Creator
We sing our songs.
God of Gods, Source of Sources
Moving atomic and kosmic forces
Hearts are pumping bloody praise.
Through our veins
Your nameless name
And boundlessness
Echo in each beating breast
Drumming your eternal Song.
Meaning counters meaningless
And dreams make sense uncommonly deep.
Your fury most mysterious,
Your voice we hear in every breath.
I can't be worth your trouble Lord,
I have such flaws and qualities bad
Can't concentrate and remain with you.
Mind wanders away
Finds things to do.
God, help me hear your Song.
Only You can write a poem.
Only You can paint a masterpiece.
Only You radiate from works of genius.
The artist becomes transparent to God
Makes themselves nothing
An empty grail filled with God's light,
Nectar of the Arts.
A single secret drop
Can change the course of Art History.
Entire Cultures change overnight from one drop.
To see through a drop of spiritual light
Makes infinity visible,
And is the consolation of the Soul
In its painful task of flight and descent
From Heaven to Earth to Hell and back.
The soul dreams itself awake
And what strange dreams you artists make.
Culture is our collective dream.
God's promise of union with the All
And History's nightmare of our fall
Echo from unconscious ground
Through poet's tongue
And Musicians sound.
The painters touch and smell the vision
While millions doze watching television.
Forgive us all our Ignorance.
Wake us now
To dance your dance and hear your drum.
Help us fix this mess, thy kingdom come.
Don't desert us now as we have You.
I call for all who never call,
Shock us awake!
Allow us to see You, feel You,
Never separate from You.
Let us love You with all our creative heart
And sing You through our song of Art.
Praise, Praise be the Song of Art.
(from Art Psalms, by Alex Grey)
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