As the Living Vine
Grows on a Dead Trellis
So the Divine Life
Spreads through a Culture of Death
Upon the crumbling and decaying Structures
Within the inner workings of Institutions
Subverting their clockwork machinations
With monkey wrenches of grace
In hallway after dimly lit hallway
We see only countless Kafkas
Stumbling listless and hopeless
Then we turn the corner
And suddenly get a glimpse of Christ
Slipping out the Door marked "No Exit"
Whispering "follow me"
To undergo our Metamorphosis
Yet the Living Vine flourishes
On the Dead Trellis of Religion
In the Dead Trellis of Education
Through the Dead Trellis of Commerce
Within the Dead Trellis of Industry
Upon the Dead Trellis of Government
In every hollow husk we find the Seed
And if we water it with stillness
And feed it with contemplation
And nurture it with beauty and goodness
It will take root in our soul
To grow up to the highest Heaven
We complain about the Dead Trellis
The lifeless rote rituals
The interminable rules and regulations
The mind numbing adherence to traditions
Wanting to replace them with
Excitement
Enjoyment
Novelty
Relevance
And above all
Funnnnnnnnnnnn
But we fail to notice that it is the Trellis
That spans the gap
From generation to generation
From culture to culture
To allow the Living Vine to reach us
Here
Now
The same Gardener
That plants the Living Vine
In the center of our hearts
Also constructs the Dead Trellis
In the structures of our culture
For the Vine to spread
From our Ancestors to us
And from us to our Progeny
Progeny who will see us as
Basic
Bland
Blind
Backward
Blundering
Just like we see our Ancestors
So when that Living Vine
Grows most fertile in your heart
Do not despise the Dead Trellis
Critique it
Repair it
Add on to it
But do not despise it
For one day
You will be remembered
As part of that Trellis too.
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