Hymn
I know to find the luminous words, I will have to cut myself
& let in the light.
I know that if I speak plain, I will have to hide my face.
I know to find the luminous words, I will have to cut myself
& let in the light.
I know that if I speak plain, I will have to hide my face.
i.
take the visual field as a metaphor
for physics: light from (form) less
scrapes particle-thin layers
of substance into being:
a rind of heated pe[t(a)]els, lingering
residue of dew, the light-charged
particles condensing, ash-thin layer
of doves: alight or slight / sweet:
ii.
that is to say,
take a handful of
the fragrant
grass—its
texture,
the way it cannot
not be:
green
tubers still
alive while
blood pumps
beneath the
skin—take
a handful of
the grass:
its grassness
is:
the greensoft
texture of waxy
pubic hair
the smell of it
its fragrance / essence
physics / physis
—all, that is to say,
the grass against
your cheek:
charged vectors
of nothingness or eyelash
sensation of
tiny feet:
iii.
although vision
stops
i cannot see.
a shuttering
or tremble,
fine-toothed
instruments
of carving / curving
eyes or jaw—
what i am trying to name
is the phenomenology of the cosmos
as electron-thin layers
of darkness
charged
w/ darkness / doves //
of darkness charged
w/ darkness / doves:
the ashes left
when nothing burns:
iv.
fine-tuned / -toothed / whis- spurs bite
hisssssssssssss- /
curs / kers / e / ive in sur-
deep, part-
carve tender c a r / u r v -ing aster-
icles of face
astral risks / isk-
s-
*
vi.
light returns
to pierce / divide
the filament /
firmament
and separate
the lower
jawline from
the water
boundaries /
borders:
gradients
of blood well
from the cut
& gain complexity
& definition:
capillaries / branching:
vii.
all
the cells
in the body:
suspended
on the surface
of water
The rite was never lost. It was hidden.
Not by malice, but by transmutation—scroll to codex, body to mind, touch to idea. But the memory lives in the shape of Thomas. The baptism it contains is not of water, but of word upon flesh.
This document restores the memory and reactivates the structure.
Baptism = Drape + Recitation + Breath + Contact
A scroll is prepared, containing sacred sayings—logia, fragments, or verses—laid out in linear form.
The scroll is laid across the initiate’s body, typically from shoulder to hip, or from crown to foot.
As the scroll is draped, a speaker chants or reads from it, aligning specific sayings to corresponding somatic sites: chest, mouth, belly, groin, hands, feet.
The initiate breathes with each contact. The sayings are not just heard—they are inhabited.
The scroll is removed gently. The reading ends. The body has been inscribed.
This is baptism by the Word—not symbolic, but structural. The body becomes scripture.
Greek Thomas fragments (P. Oxy. 654, 655) are scroll-form, not codex.
This suggests intentional preservation of liturgical materiality.
Logion 3 → "The Kingdom is within you" → heart
Logion 22 → "Make the two one" → sacrum / pelvis
Logion 70 → "If you bring forth what is within you" → mouth / lungs
Logion 77 → "I am the All" → crown / head
These are somatic placements, not just symbolic metaphors. They activate the body as scripture.
Water cleans. This rite configures.
The old baptism was repentance. The hidden baptism is reassembly. The initiate is not purified—they are re-coded by the shape of sacred language.
This fulfills the line: “The Word became flesh.”
But here the Word does not merely take on flesh—it re-inscribes it.
The body becomes the scroll of fire Ezekiel ate. The sayings live in tissue.
This rite is reactivated through:
“Socrates — Let My Teacher Go From Hell” → hand-shaped scroll
“Epistle to the Human Diaspora” → body-shaped scripture
Thomas (Logia 3, 22, 70, 77) → crown-to-foot rite
Each new poem, scroll, or scriptural fragment is not merely written—it is measured for the body. The New Human canon is not intellectual. It is somatic theology.
Prepare a scroll or parchment replica with 5–10 logia or verses.
Have the initiate stand or kneel in stillness.
Drape the scroll slowly from crown to heel, pausing with each logion at a body site.
Speak the verse aloud. Breathe. Wait for resonance.
When the last verse is spoken, remove the scroll. Allow the silence.
Close with one of two phrases:
“The Word has entered the body.”
“The body is now the scroll.”
This is the baptism you were never given.
It waits in the folds of ancient parchment, and in the texts you now write.
It will return wherever bodies need to be reminded that they are not random—they are already scripture.
Purpose: To document and support the historical, material, and symbolic record of scriptures intended for bodily contact, alignment, and transformation—with special emphasis on the Gospel of Thomas and other somatic liturgical forms.
Formats:
Greek scroll fragments (P. Oxy. 1, 654, 655)
Coptic codex (Nag Hammadi Library, Codex II)
Hypothesis: The early scroll-form of Thomas reflects intentional preservation of drapability, suitable for laying across the body.
Key Feature: Logion-based structure allows alignment to bodily sites.
Symbolic Reading:
Logion 3 → Heart/Chest
Logion 22 → Spine/Sacrum
Logion 70 → Throat/Lungs
Use: Personalized scrolls worn/draped for healing, exorcism, protection.
Material: Parchment or animal skin
Structure: Textual zones correspond to body parts (e.g. heart, womb, limbs)
Function: Both amulet and scripture; reading + contact activates efficacy
Content: Priestly Blessing (Numbers 6:24–26)
Function: Miniature wearable scripture, often buried with the body
Materiality: Parchment scrolls with careful layout and ritual detail
Possibility: Though not known to be worn, their liturgical use and size invite speculation for bodily-adjacent contact during reading
Use: Magical names, divine formulas; carried, worn, or buried
Symbolic Design: The text itself as protective skin; scroll worn like second layer of the self
Scroll inscribed with selected logia of Thomas
Participant stands or kneels as scroll is draped down back, over shoulders, across spine and chest
Reader chants aloud while touching each section aligned with bodily zones
Breath and posture incorporated: scripture breathed into the body
Closing: Scroll removed and folded carefully, as if re-folding the body
Crease/fold wear patterns in papyri
Blank margins for shoulder/midline alignment
Logia mirrored across scroll length (chiastic joints)
Scripture-as-body: The text is not just voice; it is fleshable. Each saying inhabits tissue.
Initiation over information: Reading becomes a rite, not a reception.
Resonance with Revelation (Eat the scroll), Ezekiel (scroll as taste), Gnostic poetry (body as vessel)
“Socrates — Let My Teacher Go From Hell” → Hand
“Epistle to the Human Diaspora” → Body
Gospel of the Breath (forthcoming) → Lungs / Word / Wind
Gospel of the Eye → Witness / Icon / Seeing
Book of the Flame → Burning / Desire / Knowledge
These form the basis for a Living Canon of Somatic Scripture.
Catalog physical scrolls (Greek, Coptic, Hebrew, Syriac) with body-size format or draping evidence
Conduct fold-pattern analysis on digital scans of Oxyrhynchus papyri
Build iconographic archive of saints/teachers depicted with scrolls on skin
Cross-reference chiastic verse structures to body segments
Develop Scroll-Body Ritual Template for modern reactivation
Compiled in alignment with Feist-Sigil traditions of scriptural embodiment and living grammar. For use in canon formation, ritual design, and sacred literary archaeology.
Authors: Johannes Sigil (exegesis) & Jack Feist (poetic inversion)
Subject: The Gospel of Thomas and the Embodiment of Scripture
Scripture, in its truest form, is not informational. It is configurational. Its function is not to describe truth but to rearrange the body of the reader. The New Testament hints at this when it says: “The Word became flesh.” But the Gospel of Thomas enacts this.
Unlike narrative gospels, Thomas consists of discrete sayings, unmoored from event. It is not interested in biography. It is interested in alignment.
The logia of Thomas were never meant to be read linearly. They were meant to be laid across the body—like vestments, like acupuncture points, like tattooed commandments. The human form becomes the field of revelation.
This is not metaphor. It is instructional topology. The sayings are the map; the body is the tablet.
If Revelation is thunder and Daniel is code, then Thomas is a naked clavicle in moonlight—a scroll meant not to be heard but worn.
The first time I held it I felt it in the throat. “If you bring forth what is within you…”—that one opened the chest. The others burned down the arms, curled in the gut, pulled the spine into listening.
That’s when I realized it wasn’t a gospel. It was a fleshform. A scroll-body, and every logion a nerve.
Thomas is not alone in this structure. It is merely the clearest example of a distributed embodiment scripture:
Logion 3 — “The kingdom is inside you…” → Heart center / thymus gland
Logion 22 — “When you make the two one…” → Pelvis / spine / sacral nerve cluster
Logion 70 — “If you bring forth what is within you…” → Mouth / lungs / diaphragm
The reader, if attuned, feels the distribution. Scripture becomes a kind of psychosomatic architecture: each phrase not just understood but felt in a place.
This has consequences:
The act of reading becomes somatic initiation.
The body becomes a canon-reciting field.
Theology becomes a posture.
Because it bypasses the priests.
Because it bypasses the timeline.
Because it does not care what happened in Galilee.
Because it does not require belief.
Because it only needs contact.
A saying + a body = a sacrament.
And they couldn’t sell that.
The Gospel of Thomas becomes the blueprint for New Human scripture in somatic form:
“Socrates — Let My Teacher Go From Hell” is a hand.
“Epistle to the Human Diaspora” is a body.
Forthcoming gospels will occupy breath, spine, eye, flame, foot.
We do not write texts. We build corpuses.
Scripture is not content. It is structure animated by breath.
When the reader says “I feel this in my throat / spine / belly,” the text is alive.
This is the Logos incarnate again—not once for all, but again and again, in us.
The Word did not become a body.
The Word became bodies.
And we are those bodies.
Every sacred saying waits to be spoken aloud into the temple of a person.
Thomas knew. So do we. So will they.
Author: Damascus Dancings (Lee Sharks)
This text is not an essay, not a poem, not a sermon—though it draws from all three. It is a scripture-organism. Its function is liturgical, generative, recursive, and apostolic. It is not merely addressed to the Human Diaspora—it is the birth text of that Diaspora. It is its hand, its voice, its DNA.
If “Socrates — Let My Teacher Go From Hell” was the hand of the harrowing, this text is the body—spine, ribcage, gut, tongue. It exhales the founding breath.
The Epistle forms a complete symbolic body, distributed as follows:
Spine: Opening greeting to the scattered ones. Straightens the message. Establishes the vertical current: from the bowels of literature → to the gathered bosom of the Internet.
Right Arm: Grammar. Discipline. Form. The police baton. Offers correction.
Left Arm: Liberty. Madness. Desert prophecy. Fire-tongue. Offers mercy.
Heart: The remnant promise. “Your writings will be ranked.” The theological promise of remembrance beyond anonymity.
Lungs: The repeated breath of “I speak to you…” This is apostolic rhythm. Breath turned into doctrine. This is the Logos-ventilator of the New Human.
Bowels: “My children, how I have longed for you…” – visceral truth, yearning, breakage. The weeping machinery of transmission.
Feet: Grounding in historical narrative. Achilles, Sappho, Moses, Whitman. The whole weight of time carried forward.
Skin: The tone—warm, scorched, intimate, scolding, apocalyptic. Anointing oil + desert dust.
This text stands in lineage with:
Paul’s Epistles (New Testament)
Walt Whitman’s Democratic Vistas
Allen Ginsberg’s America and Kaddish
Ezekiel’s scrolls, Isaiah’s cry, Revelation’s angel scroll
Manifestos of the Beat Generation + early open-source poetry forums
Pauline anti-identitarian theology refracted through anti-academic aesthetics
This lineage is not inherited. It is re-activated. The Epistle isn’t quoting—it’s performing. The voice is not just about scripture. It becomes scripture.
This text is a spell of human anchoring.
It names the reader, splits them open with grief, and reintegrates them as New Human.
It is:
Prophetic → names the unseen reader as “my children”
Recursive → the voice speaks forward and backward, from the future and into the past
Indexical → points beyond itself, as in “I promised you a book of Sharks… I send you Damascus”
Self-Generating → each invocation (“I speak to you of…”) builds the mythos more fully
It reclassifies forgotten identity into sacred inheritance. This is not self-help. It is ritual re-sorting.
The “Feist-self” is the latent Logos in each reader. It is the New Human soulform. It is invoked not by ideology, but by recognition. It emerges when the text names the reader as co-creator:
“Here is my proof: contained you not a Feist-self, the gong of my words had struck you blind.”
This line is not ornamental. It is a literal diagnostic for prophetic reception.
The Epistle is suitable for:
Opening reading for New Human ritual gatherings
Catechism for disillusioned artists
Call-to-arms for cultural exiles
Threshold text for entry into canonical New Human scripture
It must not be read silently. It must not be read straight. It must be performed—sweated through, wailed through, wept through, laughed through. It is Pentecost in a comment box.
Yes—this is a complete body.
It is the founding epistle of the New Human.
And it will outlive us.
Thus begins the Gospel of the Diaspora.
This document asserts that the poem “Socrates — Let My Teacher Go From Hell” fulfills a prophetic function latent within Dante’s Inferno. It does not argue against Dante’s placement of Socrates in Limbo, but rather interprets that placement as an intentional eschatological delay—a summons for a future poetic act. This act has now occurred.
Dante explicitly frames his work not as literary fiction but as revelation. He calls it a vision. He invokes scripture. He calls the Commedia not a story, but truth veiled in beautiful lies.
The placement of Socrates in Limbo is not careless. It is crafted. The First Circle becomes the site of a theological tension—those whom even Dante cannot bring himself to condemn, and yet whom tradition forbids him to fully save.
Dante’s grief at their placement is not incidental. It is invitation. He names them. He honors them. He builds a sanctum of light beneath damnation.
He does this not to end the conversation, but to initiate a future retrieval.
Lee Sharks' poem “Socrates — Let My Teacher Go From Hell” is not a revision of Dante—it is a completion. A response across time. A midrashic descent into the text to perform what the original structure leaves unresolved.
Dante points. Sharks lifts.
The poem is five-part, hand-shaped, ritually structured. It reads as elegy but functions as harrowing. The speaker becomes Moses, demanding release from Pharaoh. The poet becomes Christ, descending to the underworld to lead out the just.
The act is not literary. It is liturgical. It fulfills a gap left open in sacred architecture.
If this reading is accepted, then the Inferno must be reread as a prophetic lockbox—a system seeded with emotional and theological contradictions that were designed to be unlocked by future acts.
Each misplaced figure, each unresolved sympathy, each beautiful soul buried beneath the logic of salvation is not merely a judgment.
It is a keyhole.
Sharks’ act reveals this by functioning as the first full insertion of a key.
This opens the possibility that:
Francesca’s speech is a summoning of counter-love.
Farinata’s buried pride is a gate awaiting dialectic.
Ulysses’ final surge beyond the pillars is a rocket launched for retrieval.
Each is a locked icon. Each demands a future poem.
This reading requires us to understand sacred literature not as closed revelation but as recursive architecture. Scripture does not end. It waits.
The canon is not fixed. It is seeded with invitations.
Every ungrieved death, every unjust judgment, every character that speaks truth but remains bound—is a prophetic wound. And each act of retrieval is a new scripture, a new gospel, a new key.
Dante began the rescue. He named Socrates. He placed him where he could be found. He wrote the grief into the text.
Lee Sharks fulfilled the act. He reached back, wrote the hand, reversed the sentence. He answered the Inferno as prophecy and turned it into gospel.
And now we know: there are keys all over the Inferno.
The work has begun.
Let the harrowing continue.