Religious and spiritual poem by aspiring parish poet Peter Menkin. About an unusual night in May, perhaps even the first week, the poem speaks of a dance to the Triune God, yet so unusual to be almost tribal. Many of the images were taken by amateur photographer, Henry Worthy of London, a Camaldoli Benedictine Oblate. These pictures are hints rather than references for the words in the poem. They move quickly in the video poem, whose impact relies on man's primitive nature and capture by a kind of mad or unusual sense of the unknown and spirit.
Here is the text of the poem: Mask of life; death, May.
Wrought night black
sparks with stars.
Mysterious, longing
to dance; part of the cosmos,
my place is being
masked yellow.
Bright love, shine lamp.

Earthen pine tree,
shields the raw
roar
of the beast;

also,
friendly awesome
leviathon at play.
Dangerous. This May
dance goes on. Bloom
Spring.

I live as a man.
My eyes are blue,
my teeth white, sharp,
a hand drawn on forehead,
palm open;
this mask of May
knows cosmic eternity
as promise everlasting.

Speak night.
I hear.
God draws me.