to the apostle Søren

Gustaf Munch-Petersen: Towards Jerusalem

dear little brother Søren,

do not let

your pathetic

morning-soul disfigure

your of the Lord

illuminated garnet cheeks

with your half-

hearted

port wine tears –

 

- - - |

 

remember Søren,

that it is a thousand fold

better to have

seen the Lord your God’s

image from your brandy’s

light-coloured mountain,

than to never have

felt His hand

on your head –

o Søren, think of

the thousands, who

never felt

THE HAND OF THE LORD –!

and smile your love-

ly apostle-smile

through this ac-

cursed morning –

tonight we’ll walk

on the mountain in

wine yard alley and

whisper, for Satan’s money,

directly with the Lord God –

- - -

think, courageous Søren, this

morning of the

thousand souls, who

never for all their lives and

long years and all of

Satan’s money have

felt the heavenly breath

of God –

Søren, you man of the Lord,

mirror the sun of the angels |

in your faith’s garnet-red

cheeks –!

THE REALM is close –

we

two have seen way too much

to ever be able to

fail the sign –