Phoenix
by Dale J. Sprague
Op. 6 The Ark
Cantos One Cantos Three Cantos Four
Cantos Two
1 From the dust of earth, from wind and water, the living are formed by the body's seed deep within its cells. By the essence of every cell, of bodies of countless cells, countless varieties are made by the dark cosmic light. And each living system selects and consumes other living systems. And all living are subject to selection, and together they are, within the changing seasons of time, living and begetting their own kind. And so it came to be, those living by a self'aware word, in the name of life, sacrificed life to their overlord, until in youth's eyes, their own did they find
2 Since the beginning of waters upon barren cindered land, when the open skies allowed starry light to pass through, life evolved upon this earthen moon of a young star. And as we are, we dwell for moments only..as fragments of primordial inner light at one with light and time, merging with ever'emerging creation, with the means to divide one's self..to gather as one, dividing as one..regathering with new sensitivity, dwelling longer, extending our sensitivity forever beyond, dwelling long within creation, within this peace and beauty, feeling a greater world..feeling that we belong
And with such a home, we have become many embodiments of light..emerging, struggling to simply exist, to find the balances of chance that perhaps will tip our way, or per chance opportunity, guide them to favor us
For eons and eons, ethers of the sea rose with heavy heat. The waters of primeval life became freed, freely rising high into the sky..joining each other, moving northward, and having been swept'up by other dark shadows upon the earthen floor, storms and fierce rains fell steadily in the northlands, and the primeval waters were never seen again as they were..nor felt in the same way by the same moving seas from which they came
3 In moments of innocence, playful hands grasp an arbor branch with gestures of courage and flights of fear, living with fear of many formidable creatures larger than they. And when pursued, be quickly upon a path that could only be swift and straight and deeper into this haven, through many stout arbors closeby, leaving far behind the terror of those great white fangs pursuing...having appeared suddenly and profoundly, as our sense of impending doom as suddenly and profoundly would disappear in the midst of aggressive retreat..keeping enough space and time between us and certain transfiguration from this creation..living moment to moment with less tension and fear, for life to suspend and hold dear, whatever our senses could load and bear..to prevail and stand, to see farther..and walk'down those creatures we would stalk
We roam through the extremes of heat and cold, and the small prevailed and became bold. And by the demise of generation after generation, by ancient arbors and flora of all kinds shedding yearly from waning daylight, the earthen floor became soft..deep..and dark. And from sparkling mountains peaks, melting waters flow swiftly over barren tundras..flowing, swaying far, seeping down into the rich earthen floor
An arbor branch makes my arm longer. With a sling, I am stronger. With a stone, I am harder. Dimly lit caverns are thick with the fat of sizzling meat. The stars in the darkness above are the eyes of the gods looking down upon us. Covenants of a beast make huts of skin
And seeds are collected, for we set them to soil where we want them to grow, and time lives, but with the slow heart beat of harvest moons. And self'light still emerges from the still'water ponds. Bare beginnings of time'being, of past, present, and future dawn
4 Cold winds race over vast grazing plains. The beasts pan their horizon. They move swiftly, driven by some unseen shepherd upon tundras of cold stunted grass..smitten by stark white mountains aside a frozen sea, bitten by piercing winds raging over land and sea. Wild packs of hungry wolves, and long'fanged cats, and huge jackals feed upon the sick and lame, the very young, and the very old
We roam far and wide..mindless of morning passing and day changing, we love the hunt, the catch of prey, for there is no returning to the warmth of flickering crackling light, and gentleness of mate, nor the joy of sweet innocence, none of this until there is sustenance to deliver. It is time to chip an edge for the heart of a beast..time to strike the rock that gives its light to the dead grass by our cold, cold feet
Tending the fire for the night, dancing light glimmers and draws thought into its radiant powers. Needles of bone are used to penetrate the skin of those bones. By spearheads made of rock, by loud drums, we are more powerful, and so enlarged, we pursue the fear and rage of those bones
Painted images upon cavern walls, between which bones lay, arrayed like with like..for the beasts, they are strong and sturdy..upon darkened cavern walls, by the light within, we become more strong, more sturdy
Early in the morn, the hunt begins. Murmurings of fear and dread are muffled by the dead'quiet mist around us. The reluctant are lead by the bold. Fear hears the slightest movement nearby, moving together as one, quietly, barely disturbing the weeds between shrubs and trees...moving carefully, roaming as one...wary, and aware...that as we hunt, we may be hunted...and when coming upon prey, silently survey the territory. Deploy quietly, then together, beat the drums loudly. Shouting, screeching, cracking wood...great as one!..because the beast is dim and far away, and we sense impending death, waiting as long as the nerves can bear..waiting to overcome fear..for to wait is to also be bait for the darkness of alien time..the time the beasts wait for us
As much as the dark force beyond us would give, it takes away. The seed of light is nourished, and we are renewed, but from new light there is also new darkness. New shadows fall darkly within, and thick walls of fear had to be made with stone, within which a quiet Eden, a safe haven the village inhabitants make against a vast imposing world
5 In the evening, shadows of light move upon walls of stone. Flickering light seeking itself in the stillness of dry grass and wood..spitting and crackling, the spirit of fire lives freely, always the same light, never speaking the same way. Red cinders, warm and glowing, reveal where sun had been stored for dark cold nights. And days are made warm. Within its warmth, dreams drift high and faraway. A bright new moon turns night into a soft incandescent day, for us to see where fear otherwise may. The radiant fire also gives me this day now..but too close, it will destroy us. Too far away...useless
Under the stars, I become lost when light dances lightly upon my hands, but with my hands unable to hold it, my eyes become lost in a fragmented past. This fire lives!..absorbing me, seeking me everywhere within, every place without. Wherever I live, whatever I am doing, bits of sun enter me. All around me, it penetrates and reflects, and I feel the boundaries of darkness while its gentle warmness assures me a safe place in a hostile night
A cunning beast dares not enter our light!..for it too, by its living deep, senses the radiant substance it is, asleep. Dormant inside, I gaze into the fire's depths. Possessed by an unrelenting night, I am scattered into the darkness, until those wondrous moments!..when the firelight inside me comes..when I feel whole, and I see!...seeing whenever the sun, for a brief moment, enters me
6 An abundance of creatures there are. The forest is heavy with territorial edicts and omnipresent movement seeking sustenance. Through day and night, the forest and meadows are alive. In the deep of night, the wild howling and screeching I dread. I feel their heavy spirit in the air, their presence there penetrating. Into a deep ravine I descend, with their spirits I must blend, in deep darkness, to know them, to be at one with them
Darkness envelopes me and I arrest motionless until I sense well enough through the dimness. Suddenly behind, savage fangs approach steadily, I turn and fix upon its night'lit eyes..locking onto them, sensing its hungry soul after mine, I strongly forge through the bush..silently..undivided. I cannot falter..no permission for any separation between me and 'all and everything.' I approach directly to its charge, and when the dark'fanged creature sensed my steady unerring approach, I lurched!..my intent to attack!..my soul assaults its soul. Quickly, nearly upon it, at one with all I screech as they. My marrow thickens, my eyes alight, hair bristling, my soul hungers, and seeing itself in me, it suddenly falls silent and retreats into a deeper the umbra of night. And I remain, knowing the spirit of a great she'cat
Homeward bound, I approach those I once knew..them now, knowing me not. The coat of the she'cat I wear, and they know that the creature's spirit will always be within me. Of the fierce fang I am..of the hungry wolf, I am..the fast heart of the deer, the great heart of the bear. With these creatures I am at one. Upon the earthen floor, each foot is carefully paced..one linking the other in meditation, in harmony with the pulse of my veins. Small arbors pass by..and the many songs, the many voices of all creatures follow me, echoing around me, as I pass from one territory to another
I move not intentionally fast, nor slow. I travel as the rivers teach me to do..a path least resistant, but ever flowing. The tops of great arbors imperceptibly passby as I sink deeper into the rhythm of walk, the pace of my chant
Day moves easily into twilight and night when I rest in a nest laid thick upon arbor arms. And morning is raised with crisp fresh air, and I feel the space and light, and I again begin the rhythm of my pace through valleys and meadows. Easily I move across small brooks and aside wandering rivers, moving upon the earthen floor, its rolling surface, its softness rises up through my feet, carrying me high, and aside me, the walls of valleys rise up to make a world alive with many creatures gathering their own sustenance, as I, within mind, travel to a past filled with fear and toil, and into the distant past of me, filled with joy and adventure
Steadfast, I chant the rhythm of my walk. I am fixed fast by the purpose of my journey..no longer feeling the pain in my legs, the bottoms of my feet, nor the surface of my face, the floor moves to the rhythm of my pace..falling behind..gaining time, in steady motion, through days and nights, the feeling, the memory of home compels me
The gate of my pace is long and steady. I can out'walk the fastest of any creature, but I am distracted, seeing sights I never before seen. I pass them as though I have always known them from some faraway dream. In motion, I have become my legs, upon which I rest in motion, for simply waiting am I, to see familiar ground, the paths upon which I began
7 Upon gentle plain, within the private oases of lofty palms and river pastures, of many generations past we are, remembering the seasons, the land is deep with the memory of our ancestors. With bits and pieces of the past reassembled into a new whole, we wander and live within the land of spirits' past..living where the earth will give..planting until earth spent..search for better land to rent, giving back what we take..throughout eternities of rest and motion, faint death from joy and laughter..from stillness in sadness, and bitter roots carried by the hereafter. Summer passes quieter and quieter, as our aestival festivals celebrate later, longer into the night
In cool shade, we wait for twilight, fashioning our needs from riverside reeds, living in rhythm with all that springs from the earth, in the midst of all that flowers and bears the seed for future dreams. We dwell here for as long as dark earth renders to us the surrender of long past ancestors....our fate also, in time, to give all, to all that lives
8 Within, there is body and spirit, and the isolated there strives to feel, and from the inevitable change, while sustenance wanes, the same for spirit waxes, the alien is freed, and thought soars higher..high above in the sky..seeing afar, as far as the mind can ask why
Through eons of nature's indifference, from dim beginnings within primordial seas, preying spirits are initiated with depravations of affection. Rising, soaring freely, and seeing from afar, living invisible by invisible light..all is real
Anointed upon deserts of mind, the mind is freed, and alone, akin only to the wind, mind soars within a boundless sky, over land and sea, flowing deeply through all that lives, flowing swiftly throughout the darkness of me
Above, in the dark firmament, the starry'bodies disappear and return to where they were before. The radiant star that makes our day disappears over its twilight horizon..and when reluctant to leave, its anthelion appears upon the opposite rim
The moon changes from dark to a silvery yellow glow, holding essence of sun for the darkness having arisen in mind. At night, ancient lights are seen in formation..as mountains, rivers, and dippers..as flora and creatures of all kinds, drifting through the darkness
The moon and the stars move as the world far beyond us moves within some spirits' continuum. The body of life within this earthen place moves and reveals itself throughout the seasons, moving to the rhythm of the stars, to the sway of the sea amid great currents of wind
From the moon, a reflection of prophecy is given, for our emotion has been revealed, and the primordial need to be, is moved by a celestial firmament. From day to night, we live within the body of life..awakening with fresh brightness upon the dawn of long days and short warm nights
All that was asleep awakes as budding leaves unfolding, with warm winds and gentle rain. The innocent forming within the womb stir restlessly, ready to emerge and make nature anew
Love nests are made, and flora leaves unfold bringing together, the radiance from the heavens and the darkness of earth from which fragrant blossoms of all colors, sizes, and shapes proceed as 'immortal surrender' living amid alien spirits, beckoning them to penetrate and disturb its delicate center, the essence of what they are
The seeds of life give spirit to gentle days, for life has awakened again from its sleep to live through one another. The arbor supports the creatures of flight while making shade for small floras. And the floras offer their fruit to be taken and eaten by those who roam, for the essence and future of these living dream'states to also roam
By midsummer, all innocence having been born becomes a new generation of life..intimately changed by past life, subtlely changing by life today, the floras made and gave their most delicate part to continue to be, deep within the muffled warmth of an aestival midday, when heavy spirits ladened with the mists of waters move slowly over plains of tall grass, when the sun enlarges and appears to momentarily rest above, pouring its radiance down around stunted shadows..suspending in time, the spirit of creatures who lay and pant in shallow sleep, wrapped by the sough in the sultry shade
The Earth in motion continues. A dark hand turns the seasons, and powerful winds from foreign places set upon the land. Day shortens, and the floras shed upon the floor their sensitivity to the sun in preparation of the cold winds. And throughout the winter night, short days and long dark nights interns life..and the rain from the heavens turns limpid to white, tepid to cold. Silent gentle flurries. Blowing howling blizzards. The leaves of autumn turn to earth, and creatures' hurried flight away, long ago abandoned their small domain of twigs and mud
Many creatures have wandered far with only a few of the hardy remaining to stay, and within the caves lay, beasts made gentle by winter sleep. Dark slumber bridges time to summer dawn when all again will awaken new, as though a summer day was just yesterday
9 Great gods and powerful goddesses lived long throughout many generations. They live one generation and pass into another. From father to manchild, until father spirit incarnates. From mother to daughter, the presidiary incarnates into the chosen innocent. To breathe again, feel, and replicate the vessel for spirit's use, for spirit imperceptibly evolves to be..and slowly fading, imperceptibly ending, spirit seems immortal..living unaware of its beginning and its end
Under the yoke of sovereign reign, bound by self divine'd edicts of mind...shall I make love in fantasy? Shall I live in a dream so it can be easily changed to suit the desires of some divinity's whim? Surely, the world then, would be inflexible perfections of mind! How bizarre and strange creation would be! And I would seem still and quiet to outside eyes..without spirit..living alone within..I would feel out of time and place, being but a minor revision of an original thought, being only well trodden paths of thought..of some ancient power, isolate in its own divine tower
To the earth, my vessel I would give, if only this emptiness would leave..if only I could re'enter my primeval past where I may live unjudged by those who themselves they only know, and have no appetite for my soul
10 Having the power to govern one's own mind is the power that can lead humankind! Yet, her radiant aura, her soft gentle form consumes me. Heart surrendering, sounding into the darkness of beauteous soul..abandoned facade of mighty strength, beside her, the dint of my spine lessens, the sound of my heart deepens from darkness enchanting, thought commanding, heart compelling..disarrayed, I seek harmony in some rhythm of rhyme
Aside her I feel her power. I sense her law. Her gentleness is profound and profoundly removed from all. For her darkness to become light would require ingenious kindness a lifetime to inspire. Her words reflect a self ruler, such as I also am, who should carefully hear, silently bear, and generously allow
Enchanted by the beauty she inspires, a darkness envelops me. Unwitting destiny she brings. Past and future become vague imagery, her alluring darkness darkens me
In this darkness, I am compelled to feel more than to think. A song casts it spell, for the voices within that moan, as this a'rhythm of rhyme is dedicated to its own end, by any corner or facet that imagination may loan, by any face any word may borrow. Love is the jury. Courage, faith, the only legs upon which I stand. Time is resistance, yet gentle assurance that all words in time shall blend
11 Upon all horizons, as far as I see, bare peaks rise to the sky, and nearby are boulders and rocky rubble upon dusty ground. There is only the wind to fill the emptiness of this barrenness
Far'off are the plains of red baked clay meeting the parched foothills of sun'scorched mountains. Upon their sides, I see the caves men sought..not for shelter, but for precious rare stones. As pure clear green and brilliant blue opaque, and lusters of translucent red and radiant gold, the bold endeavored to make themselves likewise rare by adorning their bodies with radiant colored lights..beckoning any to become lost in its charm..its symbol of power, or beauty mystique it creates
Yet, these are but jewels of darkness, for the heart is drawn into the center of a cold stone, into the web of another heart already entombed by illusions of self'serving clever minds
I have disguised myself as a simpleton, and know the terror of the unrested, the deep darkness surrounding, enshrouding soul. And spent of spirit, and withdrawing from the charm of many jewels, I have fled the peoples upon the land to inevitably end where the Phoenix sings, the same isolation that compulsive want brings
By fits of angered anguished violence, the sea mirrors me. I have returned to land and smelled rotting market places within the heavy air under a tropical sun. I have felt the heaviness of waste'filled poverty'stricken streets. I have breathed the fermenting flesh of floating corpses in the midst of an apocalypse, and felt the pungent oppression of jeweled despotic controls. I have witnessed the stark authority of brutal words and bludgeons made to impress the wide'eyed, and conscript its innocence. I have heard a sea of words of not much worth...illusions to seduce, love to rape. I have experienced beggars pleading for tokens of compassion...that they may yet buy, one more drop of fermented red. Yet, in the midst of all this, I am steadfast, a'moving, a'wandering under open skies. The world, first and last, endeavors to overlord me with a thousand eyes
A thousand cries rain, yet I would remain changeless, seeking my mate..for like molding clay within, I would be..for her, who would willingly remove her jewels of darkness for me
12 The spirits moving freely over the land are of a larger world than we. A vast world of a rising and setting sun, of solemn seas deeply swaying to far away celestial rhythms, a great world dwarfing me, affixing me with fire, water, and earth into perfect stillness
I feel warmed by light of day, and beauty casts its spell, but this eye of me, on me, an uneasy sensation..like something through stained mottled glass, that only through its distortions, by uncertainty do I perceive..by hate do so many choose to perceive
Surrounded by empty space, for every pleasure to gain, yet, unable to keep, some immortality I seek. Seeking solace within nameless flowers and nights so turbulent..in touch I must be with some distant violent storm in the vast starry firmament
Restless, I bask deeply within the soft light of a full moon, for its gentle incandescent glow penetrates me until I forget how easily, quickly, life can pass without feeling that one has lived. How so much time indeed can pass, without a stir of a simple feeling
So easily this light of night penetrates me, entering me..filling me inside amid a dark firmament outside. With this heavy stillness..aimless, I wander into silent prayer to a distant star...may a single wish be granted to any, such as me, if per chance a luminous guardian should happen to feel my gaze upon this star
"Beautiful star before my eyes, your colors wax and wane from red to faint green to faded blue and indifferent grey. I wonder upon this silent night..is my way already laid before my feet?..or may I choose, unfettered by the darkness of my own fixed nature and relieved from the burden of its traditional fate, to become of creation for moments that I would cherish as a precious gift, lifting the veil of the womb from my eyes, to see a larger world, and feel all that my darkness would otherwise feed upon and consume into forgetfulness
"May I wish upon this dark night for rebirth?!..away from traditions institutionalized and empowered to imprison spirit, and toward special days and nights when I may feel creation as it is, and become also, what I simply touch and feel there
"May I choose at onement with all?..my own path, where I can be freed from the darkness of my own fixed nature..relieved from the burden of its dark fate...to become of creation for moments that I would cherish as the greatest gift, lifting the veil of the womb..to see greater horizons, and feel all that my darkness would otherwise feed upon and consume into forgetfulness
"May I wish for rebirth?...for the freedom to separate myself from any tradition whose eternity I do not wish to enter..to be here and now in this earthen haven, in this heaven where I may deeply feel this creation, and become simply, what I touch and feel there..for surely, life cannot be so incidental as to settle for the diversions of wine and flesh, filling the wants of crippled imagination, flowering and flourishing as the still nights within the centers of fragrant dark blossoms, beckoning all into its uncertain depths"
All and everything. Nearby and far distant. A pleasant repose I feel. This dark night is as she..always courteous, unassuming it seems. Yet, well possessed by the illusion that only heated desires of heart and body are real, as distant as they may be. Under the rule and power of one vision, this dark she would be, and I..for thinking her as a child, unwittingly become as much a child...and the wise say, "Listen to the cadence of time, for it will redeem all in the end of things upon those auspicious occasions when the glint of inner light makes weighty one's body"
And as much as this strange darkness is as she, great faith requires of me, since words by themselves are but illusions, reflections of convoluted light. I hear from the dark stillness above and from the dim blinking images there, that they are also tools of faith, made more real by every act of faith
Self'conscious light can bend and convolute under the dint of malevolent powers of wit and seductive illusions. Fortunate I must be!..that I need by her side to convey myself through some melody of orchestrated words...for isolated, I would be unable to speak
So muted within a loveless world, my life I would be unable to keep from draining away into some diffused purgatory grey. For love then!..am I freed from this strange darkness..am I released from some predestined feeling with a bit of love reaching into past and future, with a wealth of time I would give for her..to simply be, and beside her..live a bit of eternity, or many of them, as we live, life to life between them
13 Truth is in nature. Like the rock freshly born from molten cauldrons deep within Earth, truth selfless or otherwise in its birth, is rugged, rigid, and stark...but like the rock that lays by the sea, in time truth is worn smooth, and becomes silent and luminous under a distant full moon
Integrity of truth may be seen in the arbors as they recover their posture for their reach to enlightenment, no matter what transient spirit has moved them
Enduring truth seems present within desert megalithic flora, standing fast against torrid time, appearing immortal to all horizons, as their slender prickly nature faces, over which twilight and dawn passes
And wisdom may be felt in many ways. Within one, as mountain waters pass easily, effortlessly around assertive boulders. They steadily journey. Ceaseless motion in search of its greater self, the sea
Amid all this vast power, all this profound wisdom, amid all the things everywhere, within the shadows of unknowing, I reach for whatever bit of light I may hold, holding and keeping every fragment of radiance to serve my feebleness. As an immortal banished to life, am I...an immortal exiled to bear life, it seems, not knowing my beginning, nor end
With our hearts mutually open to one another, you are my wife. We came to be, for we knew the way of spirit..ceaseless and restless. The winds are always changing, and through them, the spirit of a flower is seen. They are bright. Their fragrance is sweet and good. Autumn winds are cool, and they make towering arbors come alive
The winds speak of the dark sleep under snow blankets quilted by crystal clear brooks flowing toward the dreams of long warm days
Autumn leaves are falling. They are alive! At one with the spirit over land and sea, they defy great Earth as they fall in their own fashion, in their own time
When all is one, all seems eternal because there is no beginning nor end...no time, nor lost and found. Here, all that moves is alive!..for I am that I am..I seem eternal as I am one with all and everything. My body is only a temporary vessel within which I may think whatever I wish. I may feel freely in whatever space of mind I should happen to find..like falling autumn leaves or tumbling waters, feeling in whatever manner I may choose
I know no restrictions in mind except those I create. There is no past nor future..only this now. There are no mistakes, nor rigid wrongs, for I am the source of interpretation within the only universe I know
I am, therefore, that I am, when I am at one with all
I exist without mistakes because 'I am that I am.' I am immortal being without beginning or end, without any thought of future or past, without restriction of form or function. Time is illusion, past and future...illusions! There is only the now and what is in it
Without past and future, there is no accounting of what I have been, nor what I shall become. Accounting is unnecessary, for the source of all is the now..now and forever
I am the lord of omniscience! I, a self'serving conscience. I need everything. I am everywhere, and I therefore know everything. I am the center of time since there is no past nor future emanations within me, no emanations but what I want them to be. There is only what I am thinking and not thinking, only the currents of what I feel, freely moving over this Earth..moving as the misty waters wander over mountains high, from great kings and queens, and castles and valleys in the sky..from the shoals of a sea, I move restlessly, never ceasing to respond to whatever may appear before me. I am immortal because there is no time here within me...only to be. No time for any beginning, nor for any end
I am any absolute that I am free to make, take, or throwaway. I know my own fate. I know...but I know only as bright as I am able to block, forget..or even destroy
From illusions of the past, and vision of future dreams, love of life makes dark fate..and I, who dwells as the sense of light would cultivate an image for all those who would venture to be an object of my thought, if that is what they want..they,who would willingly be, within my fantasy
I am the one in common with all who exist only, by their own will and belief..for I am the supreme belief...I am the one belief, I am the destiny and assurance of existence for all those subject to my sovereignty...and they are with me, as my fantasy carries us together
Yet, by our will and command any fantasy may slowly fade. The cool incandescent sun slowly sets. The leaves of autumn imperceptibly change. Darkness slowly pervades all while immortal spirits move upon frozen waters
My spirit is moved by you, and I sense life quietly sleeping within my fading fantasy...within my love for beauty
Per chance though, meaning and rhyme become well suited to one another after long efforts of wit seeking compromises with feeling
Yet, isolations self'aware become gods and goddesses, however weak or strong..barely feeling mortal words flowing
To be...I am that I am!..but I so willingly mortalize and accept my time, for as long as my time may last, to hold'fast and make real, for every sensation..every feeling and thought made, immortality I would trade within an uncertain world
14 In the midst of the city, a tower rises to the heavens. Far below, the multitudes upon earthen ground, earth'dusted, and earth'bound, scurry around, toiling for trade, spoiling for pleasure they lust. High into the sky my tower rises, rising to a point upon which only I may ascend and commune with the overlord of wind, water..fire and dust
Upon this remote summit, I see as the hawk sees circling freely above the boundaries I make and enforce. Now, upon this summit, I am in the moon of the beauty that my belov'ed inspires. Like a moon'stricken night, like a goddess she is. Sweet darkness in the center of a dark blossom, her dark beauty spins the moon, and my soul is moved, and I am moved to attain power for her..that I may venture deeper into her darkness. I would readily construct any light that would please her, and live upon the deep waters of instinct, and tack the wind if need be, for alien love and a wide open sea
For our truth, I would live as much illusion as necessary. I would appear a fool for her, and fast under the umbra of lust..for so vast a space is there between us that we must grow within, to meet..striving to know..as without, so within. What is this consuming desire?..that grips the backbone of my soul
Upon the summit of this mount, I see the kingdom as one. So much difference, so much in common. For us in peace, so much change must there be that we will become strangers to our familiars, wondering perhaps, in this passing eternity, if we truly had known anyone..or even ourselves!..knowing only what we want to see
So love labors. Blinded lovers under the spell of a fine madness. Yet, love is the grim reaper. It enlightens. Death and transfigurations. The deeper the love, the brighter the light...the greater the death...the more profound, the sensation of death. Living a love am I. Its space..far, far beyond me..enveloping me so, and so darkened, that only by instincts of good faith can we journey through the sea of space we make
Until by her light I also see, shall I dwell in the shadow of my moon upon this tower. I shall live and love in the very midst of her dark soul..good or bad, foul or sweet. It is not love returned, but loving that restores faded senses, and I feel intensely the colors, textures, and fragrances around me..to feel these ends of eternity, from the deep within me, as I were in my beginning
Upon this high tower connecting heaven and Earth, I am nearest to the gods, or see as a god would see..for having arisen so high, I see the multitudes far below as they are unable to see themselves. Beholding this great kingdom, as far as the eye can see, it stretches out to an unbroken horizon and beyond. How grand this fortress is!! Yet, at the end of this day, at the end of this light, twilight fades and all the greatest inspirations and products of bleeding hands are whisked away in a fleeting moment when the god of sun and Earth makes an effortless turn, and twilight dims, and the oils burn..its faint light, readily sucked up by a deep umbro'd night
Yet, her beauty remains! The radiance of my queen still shines! And the night gives her beauty even more light, giving as a lavender moon does to a grey desert oasis
Her beauty is like a rose blossom remaining open until I close at my end. Spirit I be, while the ways of love are as mysterious as there are ways of life..while freedom to be is life's soul..and for this, would I serve for the sake of love'sent..for the sake of feeling love deep. Only this we keep. Of fear and illusion, I be. Of spirit only, I cannot otherwise but be, until upon the vast sea between us, each other are we able to see
15 South of the northwind, there is no gentle warmth nor peace in life...only the barren mountains high, and ghost waters a'far. Here, in the midst of this bleak forsaken place of hard baked clay and radiant heat rising from ancient sand and rock, freedom abounds as far as one can see the eternal in everything, everywhere
And arising suddenly, unexpectedly, is the oasis, a little Eden where sweet shade readily consumes lost spirit and delicate waters refreshen a wandering soul
And when alien winds of change descend low from high above, they sweep down upon the land, to be the spirit over land and sea. Its edge affronts the flesh like the pricks of a thousand needles, and the thousand stars at night mark the way south, for by the morning of the days we travel, there is a large arrow made of stones upon the ground. A star speaks, and great mountain peaks are marked, and today we know our way
Brief reprieves of abandoned joy set song and dance upon gentle winds. For a moment, our heart feels strength, and the many songs harmonize until they are carried away into the darkness of this land around us, into the void of barren sand and dust
Far from the civilized crowds maddened with the spoils of want, from its darkness we run. Into the deserts we venture. Within an oasis we feel the gentle coolness, the sweet rush of a desert whisper through the shade of a palm. Its sough reddens the sun into a cool glow, and the deep within ourselves draws nigh, and we move there and remember the faraway gods and their towers so high
We roam from city to city, from tower to tower, each claiming to link heaven and Earth. I have been upon their peaks, feeling illusion upon illusion, isolation within isolation..feeling redemption upon descension to the earthen floor..always moving from generation to generation, from oasis to oasis..feeling always the delicate pervasive entity in every bit of substance, in every substance of life
Above and everywhere around are the powers..the father'god of light, the mother'goddess of Earth. These powers, sovereign rulers say, beget them, for them to rule the common and the wise
Why therefore?..defend any banner of thought..for vacant, and in the end..vain, does a ruler maintain and insist, for power. Why work hard for one's own gain?..for when the fruits of labor become noticeable, they are readily plucked and devoured by would'be gods
So this fate has been, so the masses has been weaken..so the meek knows this Earth so well, giving this day, given the work and the wind to soothe the pain. So it has been, that life's spirit having grown old in youth, laid in the shade beside some wretched earthbound creature, knowing little more than pleasures of flesh, and cycles of hunger and sleep
For what do we have left in the end!..but to be entertained in some way and become darkened by the empty aftermaths of temporal pleasures
So is the bitter fruit given, is the pinnacle of vanity strengthened, is a grain of sand enlightened!..does relentless self'reflection perceive its dark face upon still waters, and the wine jars are filled when a pouch of gold is found upon a wasted body, or when the willingness of a woman suddenly arises to give her flesh freely for yours. We lay with spirits spent in self conscious stillness. Gripped by jagged fear, alien motion everywhere! So many things, so faraway from my own Will that I wonder how any substance of life can possibly exist! Out of control..still and silent, I am hung in some dim grey. Only faintly can I sense anything around me. So far away from despotic rule I must, I seek to be, a greater vision I need, one that sets me free
The sun will always rise, the moon will always glow, the tides will always change, the arbors continue to grow. Autumn birds fly away, autumn leaves fly to stay, the stars will always blink, innocence will always be pink. The rain will always fall, the winds will always bend, the trees will always be tall...clouds will always float, the seas will always rise, the mountains will always climb, the owl will always be wise. The hills will always roll, space will always be cold, morning mist will always be cool, an empty nest..always looks old. The sky will always be blue, the eagle will always be bold, a brook will always trickle..and streams will flow smoothly..and gracefully to the sea. The bee will always work, the spider will always wait, the fly will seek the light..shadows will always be late. Humor will always warm, the heart always beating. The hand always cools, from a mind always thinking. Valleys will always protect, sadness will always seem darker..peace always a center, no matter how much solitude may be felt. And rushes turns green from what always feels wet. The fish will always swim, the sun will always set. Blossoms always turn, before autumn leaves begin to fall, and all mountains rise..to a sky..very tall. Wisdom will always follow, beaten hearts ladened with sorrow. The moon will always glow...the tortoise..will always be slow
For even in the night when the bright luminous glow is present, when the light of day had been given so rivers would sparkle within..when inflamed emotion raged, when the sage once spoke of those empty gestures wandering around illusions fostered by scrawlly grubs of fear upon a desert floor..we roamed incessantly within, and traveled upon journeys ending only where we begin
Restless, yet unmoving, youth's light shines briefly. Looking back painfully, swiftly, we sought some oasis within, upon a desert gripped with drought, upon some bright vision that once had been, where words shined...where desire sparkled like bright glittering waters. Demands came from alien powers...embittered and sad were we, seeing so much indifference toward un'named flowers
Forgotten, in solace..abandoned, in all directions, nothing but vanishing horizons..for no fair way of life is there, it seems, except those leading into some pit where some heavy whip rules
No grain of grit within. Vacant within I feel. Where has feeling gone?..that I should aimlessly wander within this chamber that is my head..and wonder if my life has been but fragile illusion..delicate dreams. Is this what life is?..to have every joy, every awakening, every pleasure scattered into some dark void where all is suspended and still..wandering upon dusty old rutted paths with heavy feet and hollow heart. Is this what is left?..after so much has been seen and felt! To see the light penetrate through the open passageways of the clouds?..and feel no more or less than the darkness cast by its side
Where does the hawk go?..in its apparent freedom, but after some aspect of appetite. Or of all around me that I see living in continuous want. My darkness is an indefinite night waiting for dawn..a dawn I sense faraway..far beyond my resignation today...of grapes and wines, of warm fragrant flesh. In the solitudes of distant songs, I dream to root this restless spirit, for my spirit to rest
16 Throughout the distant past since the beginning of the word, symbolic sound became symbolic image. Images were sown in ordered rows, set upon pressed hides or flatten reeds, or hammered into stone, or baked into clay. Like the fields, they were cultivated through generations, as generations of dreams proceed
As golden words binding scattered pieces of emotion and notion, we are set indelibly in memory, building and adding to itself seasonally like shedding autumn leaves becoming fertile ground, from which new words inevitably spring and live!..like a child, independent in sound, but dependent upon so much else around
Feeling their meaning, divinities of light arise..even if one was to only turn the pages and behold the ordered arrangement of its packets of light! Within them, within structures of thought, past, present, and future are one, for the common and individual qualities of the word are carefully cultivated, arranged and place together within leaves upon leaves..into pages upon pages, bits of light are, as all words can only be some delicate reflection of being, being always less than what is, easily disturbed, at best, only a reflection, a crude construct of what lives
For all that lives!..the Earth turns, and the seed is given. From heaven the waters seep, the Earth will keep, and the spirit will rise. The rains will pass, and the Earth will sow, and within creation's womb, we are for two full moons, pruning the vine for wine..for sweet water's fire of youth
Aye!! Winter rain..spring showers, aestival glow..we know the Earth will keep the fertile seed, the seed shall grow. Aye! We hear the chant. We laugh. We hear the cries. We feel the eternal in all that lives and dies
17 JHVH is 'all and everything'..not a word, not a thing. Venerate no image, mental or thing. No vanity overlord to JHVH. No object of time that cannot be timeless. Venerate peace of mind. Respect equally..the truth of one's self, and the truth that is selfless. Judge not any being by seeking understanding until compassion is felt. Honor the spirit of marriage. Covet not, any thing
Unto one's self be true
Venerate 'I am' in all that lives
Be both..keep separate and equal within, the eros..the agape, the one alone and the one of many, its indeterminate dichotomy
The reality of 'all and everything' exists without beginning and end. Time is only a special reality for some beginning and end of days, which inevitably begin again in the timeless reality of 'all and everything'
18 The divine is my light, and with its sight, I shall not want. With it, I am moved to dwell in green pastures, and be lead by its still'waters deep. My deep is restored from paths of divine light, whatever their namesake. Though I walk through the valley of shadows and death, in their wake, I fear not, for the light is with me..its wisdom comforts me. An opulent table is prepared for those who know not and fear. Seeing the divine in everything,' I am of 'all and everything. So anointed, my cup over runs. Goodness and understanding shall be my right and left hand. Throughout the days of my life, I shall dwell under the tree of life forever
19 Love of the divine light is the beginning of knowledge, and knowledge is the beginning of wisdom. With it comes discretion and understanding. Wisdom is nurtured and grows from pursuits and attainments of understanding
Be wise in one's own eyes and become blind to the divine in everything. Sight becomes blurred and narrow, but seek understanding, wisdom will follow. Within the sanctuary of divine light, wisdom needs not to wear itself upon its sleeve
Wisdom is better than rubies. It will not vary in value and can never be stolen
Rebuke wisdom, wisdom will return with love. Give instruction to wisdom, wisdom will become wiser
Wisdom can be moved to dark moods, but with a single word, can be moved to feeling bright. Wisdom loathes lying, however much wisdom may be moved to lie
One, rich with silver and jewels may have nothing. One poor of them may be among the richest in the world. One pre'occupied to gain silver and jewels, between their comforts becomes a target. One pre'occupied in the pursuit of wisdom attains ever increasing comforts with wealth, its sum cannot be seen. What wisdom eats, satisfies the soul, but the belly of the seven deadlies, its appetite shall always be mean
If wisdom should laugh with a sorrowful heart, the end of that mirth is heaviness
Wisdom hears words, but listens to deeds..knows the shadows of confidence and assurances...angers slowly with great difficulty, and if wisdom is moved to wrath, penitence shall follow
Wisdom speaking eloquently or not, is the same..speaking without words easily, the same
What does wisdom desire?...to know only as necessary. Wisdom for wisdom sake, its merit?..no more than a seedless husk caught by the least of spirits over land and sea
Wisdom is incapable of being flattered, and regards flattery as an assault. Wisdom, always a peacemaker, but if provoked otherwise, a cunning warrior shall war to end war
Wisdom knows...haste is from want, patience from need..only from need does wisdom breed
Wisdom experiences the pleasures that senses allow, but treasures only the knowledge of the spirit body. Wisdom sees the spirit body and searches for all it inward parts
Wisdom will dwell in the wilderness rather than live with a contentious angry spouse, however her sparkling fairness may be. Wisdom treasures the pure in heart, however unwise that heart may be
Wisdom cares not whether or not another sees its light. Wisdom may be stricken, it may be sick..wisdom may be beaten, but ever awake, it shall seek again, knowing what succeeds confirms, what doesn't, teaches. Wisdom, success or failure, happiness or sorrow, ever increases in strength
Wisdom knows when to pursue truth and when not to pursue it..when to give truth voice, when to make it mute
Wisdom will first give its adversary food to eat and water to drink
Wisdom knows that the divine is in 'all and everything,' and therefore knows that transgressors and grief'makers shall suffer in their own terms
Wisdom knows that a word inspiring, connects what had already been nearing to connect within. As willing as wisdom may be to borrow, wisdom knows...that as knowledge increases, so does sorrow
20 All things that labor cannot be comprehended..therefore, the eye cannot be satisfied with seeing, nor the ear become filled with hearing. All that has been and all that will be, has been before. What is now, will ever be again. In eternity, there is no new thing under the sun, for what is new can never be known. There is no remembrance of all things past, or remembrance of all things now, nor of all to come. As remembrance is vital, so is forgetfulness
21 Vanities of vanities, all is vanity. What profit is gained with all labors under the sun? One generation passes away, another comes, but eternity abides forever. The sun also rises, and sets at the other end, and hastens to the place where it arises again. The wind flows south, turns north, and whirls and whirls again and again. All rivers run to the sea, yet the sea is never full. The rivers disappear there, and from there, are born again from the skies and upon mountain peaks. Vanity of vanities, all is vanity..within 'all and everything' is 'I am'
22 For every thing, there is a season, and a time for every purpose under the sun. A time to be born, and a time to transform. A time to plant, and a time to reap. A time of injury, and a time for healing. A time to weep, and a time to laugh. A time to get, a time to lose..a time to keep, a time to choose. A time to destroy, a time to create. A time to embrace, and a time to withhold. A time to be bold, and a time to be weak. A time to speak, a time to be silent. A time to sew, and a time to rend. A time to begin, a time to end. A time for love..to love and love and love
23 The divine light is in 'all and everything,' and there is nothing else, nothing more. All that is, cannot be known by any one entity, and this alone, may be known from the rising sun. There is divinity in all that is, which exists in eternity. Light is formed and darkness is created. Peace is made until the sun is denied from 'good and evil' within. Within 'all and everything,' are all these things. Drop down!..heavens from above, and let the Earth open up! Let it bring forth enlightenment, and let wisdom and knowledge spring together. Within 'all and everything,' are all things created according to its nature in its time
24 Out from all, I struggled to be, pursuing ever greater light, seeing a heavenly star, inevitably becoming a son of all, of all humankind. In the great wastelands there is peace, and my heart is soothed there, dwelling there, I feel the presence of the fierce and the cunning. But in the city is the wilderness of desert hearts. Feeling silent darkness, relentless allusive pain, un'appeasable appetites, my guard is sharpened by predatory wantonness. In this vast wasteland, I feel my own self clearly, heavily, near hypnotized by my own breathing. This world within!...itself the substance of starry bodies, a firmament, a heaven within, a haven to dwell within if need be..a temple of thought so easily suited for its maker, for from one's own nature, one's own creation, one may make, however isolated it may be..however isolated it will surely come to be if there are no passageways to within. Even with body in bondage, what chains can truly bind? What army or what Caesar?..can rule such allusive substance as the stars are
Once, by the shoals of my own desert pond, to my world within from beyond, I heard the waters speak sweet words for me to keep..."All of the past is flowing to a future when people will be of one, loving life, and like the sea, always striving to contain it...for, before this age, there shall no place to travel, no place to run...no frontiers beyond an eagle's vision...no place to go, but within"
In the heavens above do the waters gather. From the mountains they flow. As the sea, they become one before transfiguration by light. There, in the misty heavens, I feel they know a world far greater than me. The ways of life are as varied and unpredictable as any being could be...or as sovereign as any tradition may reign, or as firm as a Caesar's edict can be, for wherever there is need, there is love, as profound or not as need may be, as diligent as vision can see. So much beauty is there in creation!...the wonderful creatures, splendid floras, so many strange formations..their texture, contour, color..yet, by such heavy forbearance of heart was I possessed..a heaviness pervading, a restraining keeping me little more than an onlooker, that only by the very dim hues of broken light was my deep revealed...my deep there, asking..."Where is life?..in this man'made world. Should not the young such as I, have more questions, more darkness than answers and light? Is this not to be aware of life? And where is the need by mystery to see?..for there is no shame in ignorance, there is no shame to be so, since by darkness also does creation exist...as without, so within." Only the learn'd are unashamed of their ignorance
Possessed I have been by the temptation of ascension in a world created by humankind, a venture of some unending gain, reaching again and again for some want...eternally restless, relentless, and gaunt. This is well indeed, if there is no life, no time...no place within for rest. So, youth does pass from all'knowing forever'living, from generations of good and evil notions, from the changeless change, from the eternal sameness. Such is the lot of inner darkness..youth in isolation. Must this be an eternal way of life?..for so cold it be that only deep angst is where feeling would otherwise be free, where inner darkness rules and inner light is as swift and fleeting as the waters pouring down from the tops of towering mountains. And here, upon the threshold of my own passing, I would ask youth..."Is there something greater than 'all and everything'? And you say, "God is here but not there!" And I say to you, "Must 'all and everything' be the likeness of you?" And you say, "But it has been written that God made Man in his own image." And I would say to you, "It shall be written, that fallen Man has not only made God in his own image, but gave God the same gender as Man"
And I ask again, "Where is life!..that I should be impaled for becoming aware of the station of my own illumination. It is I and each of us, as it will come to be known on judgment day, that owns every thought, feeling, and action within us. This is the cross we bear, the one I bear now, to but simply be. Where is the living seeking a larger world than themselves? What do those who regard themselves wise, have to lose?..but transient tithes and mortal dimensions of ego made more brittle by the proclamations of their brethren, assuring any would'be member a closer station to the divinities of mammon's imagination. What do they have to lose?..but the self'made bonds of a small world having grown smaller from pride of knowing, as that knowing secures power for fear and hate ruling"
Perishing, leaving this life I surely must be. Empty, I see clearly, and now, through my eyes, pours out what remains, for only as a memory of freedom can I be in my own country of greedy coin collectors..destitute woman selling warmth and softness, gestures of affection..secret murmurings, assaulting high'pitched laughter, beckoning merchants..kindness bearing false witness to itself. My Will is lost. Coldness of me, swirling anger. Invade the wickedness. Destroy blindness, greedy lust!! Utterly destroy!..this wretched unlight. Dear Elohim! Save me from this rage!..from its inherent fault, for my life feels spent. Violent hate possessing, consuming darkness of me...I, in the bowels of my righteousness, for a bit of eternity, became as they
Swept away by a cold heart, I was in some far'away world having taken on the full weight of restoring an old dream. And like the waters from a desert, my spirit was lost to the fires of hate. Lifeless, like the dust of a barren desert, I was in some dull grey pain. In isolation, seeking even now, as then, a new temple of life within which I may freely dwell..its reverence to 'all and everything,' ordain
Children of fear rule by fantasy's whim..and by them, fruits of life are given only to the chosen few in the likeness of them, having given the essence of their earthly soul. Pain, and misery of labor readily deals pennies to the down'trodden. Within the barren dust of the market places, this 'here and now' fleeting, past but vague imagery..the future, some dark uncertain beast
On this wanton day, the winds of chaos nurture wrathful life..for both children and old age can be blinded to the beauties of Earth. How easily does enduring subtle pain and dark hate isolate. How easily do we lose the profound gifts of fragrant blossoms, or balm of a quietly surging ocean. Tied, driven, and impaled, I would willingly be for words that are me. Such a fate is the very least I can do in the face of wretched tyranny of mind
Cast under this worst of all tyrannies, my soul cries, my spirit dies, for I have witnessed mortal judgment of innocence, and by innocent words were they driven and flogged, and bearing their heavy end, impaled upon wood with rope and nail. This pain enters me deeply. Unbearable deeds! This of those who think themselves wise. Who are they!!..to say where God is, where God is not. Who are they?!..having not created the life, give themselves the right to take it away
Desert winds are among us. Lifeless dust passes through us. A barren domain beckons me from afar. I cannot bear to see so many make so many others faceless, impaled, and lifeless. To a sea long since dead, below all other oceans of life am I drawn
I once rested beside this silent vestige of a distant past, only to see uncertain horizons, and winds speaking to rubble, and restless mountains moaning and shifting in the night. What pathetic despair!..that I should feel such peace here, within this old palace overlooking a Dead Sea. I feel I am much like its crumbling walls and pillars..and like its faded paintings, my dreams are much like this ancient palace...solace wasted, with gardens long since dried and gone
Upon a heavy bright day, I saw the silent waste of a sea, an ancient sea made of fatal brine bordered by the shores of dust and rock, as if to say, "The past cannot be brought back. Uncertain futures, empty and black. And because, in this here and now, there is no wisdom sought, we know not what shall come to be. No bit of feeling, nor particle of thought"
I attached myself to objects that seem pleasant and stable. I become those symbolic things that seem to be so assured. My logic moves from one object to another. On the edge of my dream, I am that I am afterall!..within the shambles of my own temple of thought. High upon this plateau, my island in the desert, I may rest looking over a dead silent sea. I am here because there is no life, except when brief rains should come..when its supple nature assures me of life ever after. Sadness becomes even darker when beauty, for a moment, is given. What hope in heaven is there for me?!..who, by the sight of beauteous springing life, saddens. Soon, yet all too soon it seems, I shall be gone..and my spirit shall bury itself, inevitably, but not before I pause upon my precipice of extinction
My tomb is the wind of the desert, passing as the only hint of time. Day and night are the same. Distractions from the rising heat of a barren earthen floor. Within these ruins of opulence, my deep is spent and scattered into broken fragments of my past. Aye!..therein are the time capsules of dreams. Dainty bottles for perfumes and tiny combs of those intrepid sweet beings who think nothing at all of improving a bit on what has already been given to them by nature
Within the catacombs are objects molded and shaped by nimble hands, working quickly with no thought of yesterday or tomorrow. Within such innocence, there is only the now. Only spangles, baubles, and jewels..and practical things, particular things of apparent value within some lost past that now lay silent and dust heavy..waiting, as I do..to be seen
Within the cisterns is the elixir of life that once trickled into fountains and filled sacred baths..wherein, the misted'minded cleansed the body, where the flesh becomes blessed by every thought. The flesh, within which simple light emerges as freedom of thought..that elusive, ethereal sense of being free..that sublime feeling, that fragile eternal sense of freedom. But with such violent intent would cunning Caesars of mind dwell within the hearts of would'be gods, making judgment, by their conception of 'good and evil,' by their evil eye thereby, through which they perceive, they are as gods, overlords to life..reverent only, to their own
Wrathful violence!! Cunning Caesar! Lifeless space everywhere seen, the waters and dust of me will separate forever. I feel thunder distantly. Rains pounding, hitting body. So softly they touch, so faint and far away they be. Like a good word perhaps, will my passing be. Something meaningfully spoken, like a child, clear..unabashed..hopeful
Darkened day..father in heaven!...where is peace now! Have you forsaken me?! Cries, shouts, many people about. I feel a cold stillness..a gentle veil of a violent moon impaled by fear made of iron, darkness of mind I bear. Such bondage will surely rule until the last great war of a would'be Caesar, when the world will be crowded with no frontier..no place to go but within. Then, only then!..evil's dwelling be seen..for only with an eye turned inward, can evil die
Suspended within, within this silky feeling slipping, I see the vast firmament of the sea. So far away it seems, I feel faintly and distantly, feeling people softly, dimly. So innocent they are, they truly know not what they do
And so it is! Wisdom is in everything, everywhere! My rage..but wind and rain and lightening passing from a moonless night into this grey midday. In Jerusalem...where is the temple of life!? Where is love and celebration greater than itself? Where is the temple if it cannot be seen?..the spirits over land and sea..from everywhere, going everywhere through the lofty dreamstates of magnificent trees!..the deep rich valleys, the sweet green meadows, quiet lakes of crystalline blue, the creatures, the seasons..the sparkling firmament above...this good Earth, our vessel through a vast sea of space. And as the Earth is to the stars out there, I am to life everywhere. Inconspicuous, silent body, I..I open to commend my spirit spent. Heart I be, for all to see..light of the starry heavens, I seek
Cantos One Cantos Three Cantos Four