...of Purity

Christ in His Agony, pray for me.
It shows his body falling from the Cross on His hand of nails, the perfect slump built in by the artist, the devout sculptor worked on this with all his heart, the Compassion and tenacity of Christ - a sweet perhaps Indian Spanish Catholic of the 15th century, among ruins of adobe and mud and stinksmokes of Indian mid millennium North America, devised this statuo del Cristo and pinned it up in the new church which now, 1950's, four hundred years later or five, has lost portions of the ceiling where some Spanish Michaelangelo has run up cherubs and angelkins for the edification of upward gazers on Sunday mornings when the kind padre expostulates on the details of the law religious.
I pray on my knees so long, looking up sideways at my Christ, I suddenly wake up in a trance in the church with my knees aching and a sudden realisation that I've been listening to a profound buzz in my ears that permeates throughout the church and throughout my ears and head and throughout the universe, the intrinsic silence of Purity (which is Divine). I sit in the pew quietly, rubbing my knees, the silence is roaring. -

[Lonesome Traveler, Kerouac, J.]