Phoenix
by Dale J. Sprague
Op. 1 The Rose
Cantos One Cantos Two Cantos Three
Cantos Four
Traveling has taken us to many places of mind, and our quest has lead us to witness many visions from many spiritual paths. We gravitate back to normal space and time. We move, drifting over, under, throughout this Earth. We sense the smallest, but not the least, and the greatest, but not the most within this temple of life
I peer outwards through a clear dome overhead in the mid of night, and I am awed, I am swept away by the immensity of the sparkling expanse of tiny blinking specks revealing a vast universe that can be so easily equaled by just one of its bits laid bare, self aware
I feel the apparent insignificance of this tiny place. The least bit here too, can, self'aware, possibly assume a self significance greater than all that is, enough to darken all else into momentary oblivion except itself
Countless wants steep themselves with its own heat. Timeless, timeness. Feeling it, for it to blend with aestival dawns, autumn twilights, or winter nights upon a valiant journey through the radiant consciousness of starry light
And I am myself soothed, as I feel vast seas in rhythm with phases of moon, moving the waters..setting into motion, the emotion of all living
I enter day or night at will. I drift over land and sea amid great spirits that arouse great seas. And I see. And from any that would venture to live, I became for brief moments, their need to live the adventure, feeling impassioned quest..seeking that particular mystique..the lover..the darkness of the beloved, witnessing the boldness of a lover who would for love, perceive the shadows of their own conscience, and spontaneously undergo transfiguration there
I feel without troublesome reason to feel, feeling to simply continue the life and its sensations. We are soothed by living auras. Blissful balm. Spirit calm, we drift over great territories of mesa bluffs, arbors, and vast plains of tall grass gently swaying from the spirit over land and sea
Looking across its undulating surface, we see twilight between day and night move slowly over, and whenever day darkens, missing shadows bring drops of water to baked clay of barren soil. And life inevitably springs from new waters while glistening streets are washed clean in the midst of congested cities
Many brilliant colors sparkle from the nighted lights of deserted wet city streets. And beneath the peace of the starry firmament, we slowly descend nearby one city, amid slowly rolling hills of arbors having thick bodies with broad arms and leaves. The arbors have long since become a living dream under the spell of seasons...if we could only share that dream for a brief moment
We move through the suburbs of this city to the city refuge, and here, we remain still, in solace, wondering and pondering for the meaning of this place! Only here, it seems, do vagabonds meet and scavenge for rubble. Outcasts seeking society's cast'aways. And, by necessity, their vision is special, seeing not always what is obviously before their eyes, but seeing in mind, what surely could be!
We reside here, feeling that the end of our journey is somewhere near, and heavy within us is a yearning to reachout to this vast castaway place
We surrender more. We are estranged, deeply enchanted, and drawn by this quiet, this silent ruin of time
Golden heat is thick during mid'day. It lays heavy upon shiny ends of ragged'edged tin cans. Heat rises from small mounds of rubble that are scattered amid slender shafts of dried hay. Here, foul odors are the wakes of fierce competition and voracious appetites, heaped heavy with death from consumer aftermaths, through which golden radiance from above penetrates
Small gentle spirits of the wind pass'over, around tiny blades of grass nearby. And the silence becomes heavier, as the heat does when the grass stands still
The motion of the Earth stops. And we move from a rusted nail to a broken wooden box..to dull yellow'd grass jutting out from its side
A spirit touches a blade of grass, and it gently leans in the direction of a broken bottle filled with un'wanted stillness, an agonizing difficulty to move, consumes
We move, to see a tiny creature with eight slender legs scrambling around, over pieces of debris and soil. This little creature moves toward a box made of hard thick paper holding many metal cans, resting crookedly at the bottom of a heap of rusted iron and soiled tin, and shards of bottle glass of all colors
Castaways, cracked and broken. All abandoned. The ground is bare with patches of oily soil made dirty by dirty oil. Small paths wynd throughout the rubble. Inconspicuous paths they are, aside decaying pieces of ragged furniture, narrow paths around heaps of refuge of time'saving clever minds
Only the roots of grass are alive. Thick detritus penetrates broken toys. Rusting bolts. Lifeless pieces of arbor branches. How has the glory of the adventures we have seen?..brought us to such an unusual place as this
Gold beats down upon this abandoned place. The air, hot and heavy, thickens more as we drift even slower. An occasional hollow whistle from a bottle, or a buzz of a honey'maker haunts the doldrums of our melancholy
In our surrender, we wander with one in flight to the delicate ethers of a wild flower. And shortly, we come upon a very small inconspicuous flower with a yellow grainy center, and several slender white petals radiating outwards
We then quickly leave with another of these busy spirits heavily laydened with the fine sweetness. And suddenly, we are compelled to follow a path through space made clear by a strong unusual fragrance thickly blended from many blossoms. As the fragrance becomes stronger, we are drawn by a melody of trickling waters
Over a shaded brook, we move through warm shadows, up a gentle rise to a garden fashioned especially for these majestic flowers. And soon, a strange enchantment envelopes us. Their deep color and delicate fragrance overwhelms us
Aimless, we move through a high towering arch made of these flowers. Within the garden, we see small carpets of grass and tiny flowers that were allowed to flourish upon the floor. Beneath the arches of thorn and sweet'scented blossoms, we are deeply moved by so much beauty guarded by hard barbs and saw'toothed leaves
Narrow inconspicuous paths wynd around each plant as though special care was given to each. Wynding paths serve as passageways for the waters having lifted'up from the sea, and drifting down from the heavens, through the spirit over land and sea, to pass through these beauties, to pass through into a nearby brook
The creators of this garden saw the streaming waters, and they diverted some for this special gathering where warm radiance from above, fresh dew, and diligent tiny creatures keep leaves clean, and the blossoms' sweet is irresistible to the honey'makers we meet
A bit of wind constantly stirs dark shadows upon paths that wander aimless throughout this garden. Within this pleasant diversion, from the center of a storm of thorns and jagged leaves, a spirit freely wanders through gentle grass and sage. We see the work of worn hands carrying tin cans of seedlings. We see the wood of castaway boxes fashioned skillfully to help support the burden of such passion for color and delicate fragrance. Narrow waterways were made and lined with small cobbles. And wild flower seeds are strewn in all directions to keep the floor shaded and cool, to keep alive this garden aside a forgotten forsaken refuge of castaway wants
And here we stay, near the center of this haven, to where a velvet red blossom has grown from a single seed of affection. And to this immortal surrender amid jagged leaves and thorns, we surrender with our vague memories, strange sensations, and rest from a quest that has given us our own deep need...if only to be the the waters of a single regal blossom...if only to be thus, amid the vastness and greatness of this sweet heaven around us
Skies deepen. Impending darkness. Spirits thicken, dense power. The naked light of instinct appears while mind winters to draw into its midst..billowy clouds, cool mist, dense darkened grey. Dim awareness overrun by the excitement of spirits' ghosts. Of spirit transcending, penetrating the darkness, swelling space, rapidly germinating, we are constantly changing, dying, renewing heavier with the strength of our own purpose
Wholly gripped we are by the Earth below. This great body pulls on us harder and harder, and faster and faster do we move until the horizon disappears. And we crash upon barren rock and soil. All forms, all shapes and sizes are shattered and splattered..hurtled into the ethers, into all directions, into the darkness of Earth
We seep and divide and spread while we are compelled to unite with everything
There are many passageways to the depths of this flowering palace. Upon a gentle hill slowly declining, the heart of Earth draws us through a multitude of flora reaching down for life'giving waters, of which we are a part
Flowing through carefully sifted soil, we feel quiet darkness. The sweet Earth surrounds us. We stream through darkened tunnels as we remain possessed by the Earth's molten heart
Coolness from a trickling. A nearby brook is upon us, but our journey over waterfalls back to sea will be interrupted for a time
We feel the strong need of a living dream'state pull on us. Surrendering, senses become sharp. We feel the aura of this individual, the strength of slender roots gripping a portion of rich Earth. Delicate fingers radiate in all directions, holding firmly onto the rich darkness. The roots branch randomly in the dark, seeking sustenance. Becoming nearer, we sense an array of soft delicate hairs, each providing an entrance way
We pass through, and we are suddenly initiated, we are quickly drawn into, feeling a smaller, yet, far more intense world than we, within this firmly fixed entity
Streaming through, and pooling within many caverns..away from the grip of Earth, we are taken and drawn through wynding open passageways where we join and rejoin until we wander heavily but easily through larger and greater caverns
Through radiating fingers clutching the Earth, up and outward do we steadily move..do we divide and redivide, seeping through every pore throughout every cell to the green of the leaves where radiant gold from above is needed as much as the dark earth below
We feel this flowering entity we are of, needing the life, needing this place..this early morning sun, gentle breezes, and shade made cool by its leaves
For its many needs, this entity has many arms of thorn reaching out, entangling passerbys. Razor barbs guard the soft vital center, and jagged leaves of deep green bear themselves upward to blazing yellow
Basking in golden warmth, growing by its subtle radiant force..only within its palisade palaces is the true end of a rainbow. Each existing as a way of knowing. Between sensual needs and the seeds of vision into past and future that meet distant galaxies, this individual touches the radiance of the sun, and is aroused deeply within its sensitive green by the contemplations of Earth
To but live!..even for what this bit of stillness would give!..as a raging storm of thorns and jagged leaves spin in all directions..arching higher and higher into the ethers of the unseen mist..amid this treachery of immortal self'sovereignty, who readily delivers prickly pain to whomever approaches too close
Its deep is aroused by the slow movement of a meditating Earth. Just enough for dominating desires to take small portions of effort from the resolves of a multitude of demands
Many fingers grip the Earth, and it immediately divides upwards into countless leaves to feel the radiant consciousness there, as it knows how
A small congregation of the mists so high, passes by. Dark transient shadows appear upon the floor. And we feel the balm of radiant gold through a midday bluing sky
Spirits' presence is noticed from the movement of dark upon the Earth below. Radiant heat from above is warm within, and the Earth records the strokes of wind and sun
Deep desires overpower space with undaunted spirit. Ancient leaves converting the sun had forever transfigured within, being especially chosen for the alien now upon us
Fragrance ascends upon a multitude of unseen spirits throughout the land. Sweet'scented fragments of body given without measure from a dark sweet haven beckoning any who would enter its delicate intricate navel...so formed to lure, and again live! Where abundances of sweet treasures lay, where life's seeds lay silent, alien spirits traveling within a great sea of wind are impassioned by intoxicating fragrance and struck blind by deep red
Velvet red is veined in many directions to provide for the special needs of this immortal surrender. And velvet layers of compassion radiate from a past when buds appeared like tears fallen from the heavens into a raging storm of thorns
In the shade of jagged leaves and time. By the gold of rising heat, amber twilight sees a single rose resting and swelling on the verge of opening
A red bud waits for the right moment to open, when the sweetness of its blossom will be given, welcoming any intrepid traveler who would venture into love
Red velvet of dark passion unfolds into packed ranks in all directions. Its fragrant voice is made and released, uplifted upon gifted spirits traveling anywhere, everywhere. We feel cleanness and clarity. We feel a new birth impending, when harnessed passions become a flower, blended and possessing just moments of our deep..for fragrant passions they are, lingering, waiting for the occasion of love. Courageous passions they are, being the first to step forward into time
Cantos One Cantos Two Cantos Three