Good Friday ~ 2021

Renaissance ~ Revised Edition

This image is accredited to Liverpool Echo to whom all rights are reserved, the image appearing on Pinterest with the Echo’s annotation : A STUDENT’s stunning picture of Liverpool’s waterfront shrouded in fog has gained worldwide acclaim. Readers might be interested to note that Waterloo Warehouse is about 900 meters off lens to the bottom right, and this image perfectly captures that which I write of. KTW

I wrote this on Good Friday 2011 (April 22) in Liverpool looking out from my lounge on the Waterfront, the Canadian Warship Fort George having slipped moorings in the last hours of Maunday Thursday.

This revised Version brings the account to completion, with its message of certainty, not merely hope, and divided into three - and thus an eyeline to the Trinity ~ the Triune G-D ~ Three in One : each equal and indivisible and One and the Same.

When first written, the piece ended upon the Universal proclamation : it is Finish-ed

 One

There is much traffic

in the Estuary tonight

as the smog alights

and casts its net

upon the coastline.

The heavy smell of cordite,

or is it scrap metal,

from the Huskisson

or Canada Docks

on the Port of Liverpool?

The mighty Fort George

lies at anchor,

its conning towers

capped by the smoggy yellow;

late night revellers

looking in bags and pockets

for their ventolin inhalers.

The ducks and geese are loud

in the basin sixty feet

below the window

where earlier sat a seagull

eyeing my food on the coffee table.

The ship’s engines now just

a distant hum

but another ship approaches,

shimmering lights,

a trawler,

and behind it a flotilla

heading up stream

to Ellesmere Port.

A Tanker tugged to

port and stern

a third on the bow,

a mighty tanker

the length of this warehouse

twice over

on the Waterloo Dock!

The Pier Head stands empty

but bathed in lights,

Her Majesty’s Canadian

Ship of War

slipping its moorings

on Maundy Thursday.

The great clock

on the Liver strikes

One past the hour. . .

and despite the smog

a pleasant night.

Recollections of another darkness.

A spiritual pollution.

A different smog.

When the Universe gasped

and the Host of Heaven

gazed on in hapless awe

as Salvation bore the stripes

and yielded opened hands

and crossed feet

to the spite-driven nails

of fallen man

to a Crown of Thorns,

and with a deathly hush

the powers of darkness rush

ever so briefly in

savilating momentary victory

as Salvation yielded. . .

then made a Universal Declaration. . .

It is finished!

Two

An unnatural darkness

descending at three past the hour.

And the earth quaked

and all the graves reopened

and those lying dead

some five hundred or more,

walked again

the streets of Jerusalem.

“Death is swallowed up

in victory.”


Three

And the powers of darkness

look to their defeated leader,

bereft,

and know at last with certainty

that after times, time and half a time

they will one day

live eternally in oblivion. . .

beyond the pale. . .

where even the comfort of death

defies them,

and the shrowd of blackness

impenetrable

ironically giving them

sight into oil thick darkness

That, my friends, is oblivion

Let us never wish that upon anyone

   
Kenneth Thomas Webb
Liverpool

November 1, 2021
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Das Vereinigtes Königreich

United Kingdom - Austria - Germany - Australia - New Zealand - Canada - USA

© Kenneth Thomas Webb 2021

One of the Fifteen Founding Members of Leaders Lodge

Written Liverpool April 22, 2011

Substantially Revised July 4, 2021