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Hexameron Rest was my haven for contemplation, and contemplating what is, I saw it was good. It was the seventh day.
And I saw what man does. Marvelous created creature of creation! In his art the material world becomes spiritual And because of him, it all has hope. It was the sixth day.
My mind’s eye beheld living things full of variety, proportion and sufficiency, accusing the maker of being wise and of spilling blessings where none are due. It was the fifth day.
I always find light where I least expect it, A sun when all is brilliant and clear, A moon when time is dark and devouring. Time has masters, time has meaning. It was the fourth day.
In my exile, land of loneliness and desolation full of life, yet searching for an infinite You, where coast and shore don’t meet, I cry out with my voice, “Miserere!” Do you hear? It was the third day.
Looking up again, the sky filled my eyes, the ocean my heart, Infinites of loftiness and depth that dry up my tears of sadness, Mirrors of my soul that fill me with tears of joy and affection, Mirrors, and measure of my love. It was the second day.
Say the word, in my life, Maker of all these symbos! Blast into the darkness of my soul saying, “Let there be light!” It was the first day.
Man lives the hexameron backwards in relation to the Creator’s calendar.
Fountain of light! Love of my heart Longing of my pangs! Significance of time! Wisdom of life! Designer of hearts! Source of good!
Oh, oh, have mercy on me a sinner, Backwards must I live life, For my end is my principle.
What is my principle? The fulfillment of the exhortation, “Dominus vobiscum!”
My distorted, sinful, backward hexameron, Not your six days which I corrupted by my sin, But my six days which you have saved by your cross.
The cross is the meaning of time. |