ψ The Multitudinous Abyss ψ

I’m STILL on an Atlantean roll, like lobster salad – or a deep-fried clam.
(See previous 2 posts)

I am lost in submerged speculation –
rapt in the deeps of contemplation where I view the ruined civilizations of man…
I want to know what happened exactly.
I want to know it all.
I long for wisdom.  Do you?

 
The word of God has this to say in Job 28:

But where shall wisdom be found? and where is the place of understanding?
Man knoweth not the price thereof; neither is it found in the land of the living.
The depth saith, It is not in me: and the sea saith, It is not with me.
It cannot be gotten for gold, neither shall silver be weighed for the price thereof.
It cannot be valued with the gold of Ophir, with the precious onyx, or the sapphire.
The gold and the crystal cannot equal it:
and the exchange of it shall not be for jewels of fine gold.
No mention shall be made of coral, or of pearls: for the price of wisdom is above rubies.
The topaz of Ethiopia shall not equal it, neither shall it be valued with pure gold.

Whence then cometh wisdom? and where is the place of understanding?
Seeing it is hid from the eyes of all living, and kept close from the fowls of the air.
Destruction and death say, We have heard the fame thereof with our ears.
God understandeth the way thereof, and he knoweth the place thereof.
For he looketh to the ends of the earth, and seeth under the whole heaven;
To make the weight for the winds; and he weigheth the waters by measure.
When he made a decree for the rain, and a way for the lightning of the thunder:
Then did he see it, and declare it; he prepared it, yea, and searched it out.
And unto man he said, Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom;
and to depart from evil is understanding.

(And if you don’t love the King James Version
you can  go to hell read it in another translation.)

I believe the following poet had Atlantean wisdom. Perhaps you will agree.
Here is a beautiful part of Christopher Smart’s epic Song to David:

He sang of God—the mighty source
Of all things—the stupendous force
   On which all strength depends;
From whose right arm, beneath whose eyes,
All period, power, and enterprise
   Commences, reigns, and ends.    

Angels—their ministry and meed,
Which to and fro with blessings speed,
   Or with their citterns wait;
Where Michael, with his millions, bows,
Where dwells the seraph and his spouse,
   The cherub and her mate.

Of man—the semblance and effect

Of God and love—the saint elect
   For infinite applause—
To rule the land, and briny broad,
To be laborious in his laud,
   And heroes in his cause.
  
The world, the clustering spheres, He made;    
The glorious light, the soothing shade,   
   Dale, champaign, grove, and hill;   
The multitudinous abyss,   
Where Secrecy remains in bliss,   
   And Wisdom hides her skill.

The pillars of the Lord are seven,
Which stand from earth to topmost heaven;
   His Wisdom drew the plan;
His Word accomplish’d the design,
From brightest gem to deepest mine;
From Christ enthroned, to Man… 

This poem is amazing.
It just rolls on and on, touching on so many diverse subjects, like a peal of  lyrical thunder.
I recommend reading the entire thing, out loud if possible.
Until we meet again in that fair land above the Atlantean depths, stay POETIC.
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