THE GODS 11

FIRST GOD
Oh, this ache of ceaseless divining,
This vigil of guiding the day unto twilight,
And the night unto dawn;
This tide of ever remembering and forgetting;
This ever sowing destinies and reaping but hopes;
This changeless lifting of self from dust to mist,
Only to long for dust, and to fall down with longing unto dust,
And still with greater longing to seek the mist again.
And this timeless measuring of time.
Must my soul needs to be a sea whose currents forever confound one another,
Or the sky where the warring winds turn hurricane?
Were I man, a blind fragment,
I could have met it with patience.
Or if I were the Supreme Godhead,
Who fills the emptiness of man and of gods,
I would be fulfilled.
But you and I are neither human,
Nor the Supreme above us.
We are but twilights ever rising and ever fading
Between horizon and horizon.
We are but gods holding a world and held by it,
Fates that sound the trumpets
Whilst the breath and the music come from beyond.
And I rebel.
I would exhaust myself to emptiness.
I would dissolve myself afar from your vision,
And from the memory of this silent youth, our younger brother,
Who sits beside us gazing into yonder valley,
And though his lips move, utters not a word.

9:36 AM | 0 comments | Read More

THE GODS 18

FIRST GOD
Let the singer cry, and let the dancer whirl her feet
And let me be content awhile.
Let my soul be serene this night.
Perchance I may drowse, and drowsing
Behold a brighter world
And creatures more starry supple to my mind.


THIRD GOD

Now I will rise and strip me of time and space,
And I will dance in that field untrodden,
And the dancer’s feet will move with my feet;
And I will sing in that higher air,
And a human voice will throb within my voice.

We shall pass into the twilight;
Perchance to wake to the dawn of another world.
But love shall stay,
And his finger-marks shall not be erased.

The blessed forge burns,
The sparks rise, and each spark is a sun.
Better it is for us, and wiser,
To seek a shadowed nook and sleep in our earth divinity,
And let love, human and frail, command the coming day.

4:31 PM | 0 comments | Read More

THE GODS 16

THIRD GOD
Love triumphs.
The white and green of love beside a lake,
And the proud majesty of love in tower or balcony;
Love in a garden or in the desert untrodden,
Love is our lord and master.
It is not a wanton decay of the flesh,
Nor the crumbling of desire
When desire and self are wrestling;
Nor is it flesh that takes arms against the spirit.
Love rebels not.
It only leaves the trodden way of ancient destinies for the sacred grove,
To sing and dance its secret to eternity.
Love is youth with chains broken,
Manhood made free from the sod,
And womanhood warmed by the flame
And shining with the light of heaven deeper than our heaven.
Love is a distant laughter in the spirit.
It is a wild assault that hushes you to your awakening.
It is a new dawn unto the earth,
A day not yet achieved in your eyes or mine,
But already achieved in its own greater heart.
Brothers, my brothers,
The bride comes from the heart of dawn,
And the bridegroom from the sunset.
There is a wedding in the valley.
A day too vast for recording.

4:30 PM | 0 comments | Read More

THE GODS 17

SECOND GOD
Thus has it been since the first morn
Discharged the plains to hill and vale,
And thus shall it be to the last even-tide.
Our roots have brought forth the dancing branches in the valley,
And we are the flowering of the song-scent that rises to the heights.
Immortal and mortal, twin rivers calling to the sea.
There is no emptiness between call and call,
But only in the ear.
Time maketh our listening more certain,
And giveth it more desire.
Only doubt in mortal hushes the sound.
We have outsoared the doubt.
Man is a child of our younger heart.
Man is god in slow arising;
And betwixt his joy and his pain
Lies our sleeping, and the dreaming thereof.

4:30 PM | 0 comments | Read More

THE GODS 14

THIRD GOD
Oh, the affliction of knowing,
The starless veil of prying and questioning
Which we have laid upon the world;
And the challenge to human forbearance!
We would lay under a stone a waxen shape
And say, It is a thing of clay,
And in clay let it find its end.
We would hold in our hands a white flame
And say in our heart,
It is a fragment of ourselves returning,
A breath of our breath that had escaped,
And now haunts our hands and lips for more fragrance.
Earth gods, my brothers,
High upon the mountain,
We are still earth-bound,
Through man desiring the golden hours of man’s destiny.
Shall our wisdom ravish beauty from his eyes?
Shall our measures subdue his passion to stillness,
Or to our own passion?

What would your armies of reasoning
Where love encamps his host?
They who are conquered by love,
And upon whose bodies love’s chariot ran
From sea to mountain
And again form mountain to the sea,
Stand even now in a shy half-embrace.
Petal unto petal they breathe the sacred perfume,
Soul to soul they find the soul of life,
And upon their eyelids lies a prayer
Unto you and unto me.
Love is a night bent down to a bower anointed,
A sky turned meadow, and all the stars to fireflies.
True it is, we are the beyond,
And we are the most high.
But love is beyond our questioning,
And love outsoars our song.

4:29 PM | 0 comments | Read More

THE GODS 15

SECOND GOD
Seek you a distant orb,
And would not consider this star
Where your sinews are planted?
There is no centre in space
Save where self is wedded to self,
And beauty filling our hands to shame our lips.
The most distant is the most near.
And where beauty is, there are all things.

Oh, lofty dreaming brother,
Return to us from time’s dim borderland!
Unlace your feet from no-where and no-when,
And dwell with us in this security
Which your hand intertwined with ours
Has builded stone upon stone.
Cast off your mantle of brooding,
And comrade us, masters of the young earth green and warm.


FIRST GOD

Eternal Altar! Wouldst thou indeed this night
A god for sacrifice?
Now then, I come, and coming I offer up
My passion and my pain.
Lo, there is the dancer, carved out of our ancient eagerness,
And the singer is crying mine own songs unto the wind.
And in that dancing and in that singing
A god is slain within me.
My god-heart within my human ribs
Shouts to my god-heart in mid-air.
The human pit that wearied me calls to divinity.
The beauty that we have sought from the beginning
Calls unto divinity.
I heed, and I have measured the call,
And now I yield.
Beauty is a path that leads to self self-slain.
Beat your strings
I will to walk the path.
It stretches ever to another dawn.

4:29 PM | 0 comments | Read More

THE GODS 12

THIRD GOD
I speak, my unheeding brothers,
I do indeed speak,
But you hear only your own words.
I bid you see your glory and mine,
But you turn, and close your eyes,
And rock your thrones.
Ye sovereigns who would govern the above world and the world beneath,
God self-bent, whose yesterday is ever jealous of your tomorrow,
Self-weary, who would unleash your temper with speech
And lash our orb with thunderings!
Your feud is but the sounding of an Ancient Lyre
Whose strings have been half forgotten by His fingers
Who has Orion for a harp and the Pleiades for cymbals.
Even now, while you are muttering and rumbling,
His harp rings, His cymbals clash,
And I beseech you hear his song.
Behold, man and woman,
Flame to flame,
In white ecstasy.
Roots that suck at the breast of purple earth,
Flame flowers at the breasts of the sky.
And we are the purple breast,
And we are the enduring sky.
Our soul, even the soul of life, your soul and mine,
Dwells this night in a throat enflamed,
And garments the body of a girl with beating waves.
Your sceptre cannot sway this destiny,
Your weariness is but ambition.
This and all is wiped away
In the passion of a man and a maid.

4:28 PM | 0 comments | Read More

THE GODS 13

SECOND GOD
Yea, what of this love of man and woman?
See how the east wind dances with her dancing feet,
And the west wind rises singing with his song.
Behold our sacred purpose now enthroned,
In the yielding of a spirit that sings to a body that dances.


FIRST GOD

I will not turn my eyes downward to the conceit of earth,
Nor to her children in their slow agony that you call love.
And what is love,
But the muffled drum and leads the long procession of sweet uncertainty
To another slow agony?
I will not look downward.
What is there to behold
Save a man and a woman in the forest that grew to trap them
That they might renounce self
And parent creatures for our unborn tomorrow?

4:28 PM | 0 comments | Read More

THE LIFE OF LOVE: Winter

Winter

Come close to me, oh companion of my full life;
Come close to me and let not Winter’s touch enter between us.
Sit by me before the hearth,
For fire is the only fruit of Winter.

Speak to me of the glory of your heart,
For that is greater than the shrieking elements beyond our door.
Bind the door and seal the transoms,
For the angry countenance of the heaven depresses my spirit,
And the face of our snow-laden fields makes my soul cry.

Feed the lamp with oil and let it not dim,
And place it by you,
So I can read with tears what your life with me has written upon your face.

Bring Autumn’s wine.
Let us drink and sing the song of remembrance to Spring’s carefree sowing,
And Summer’s watchful tending,
And Autumn’s reward in harvest.

Come close to me, oh beloved of my soul;
The fire is cooling and fleeing under the ashes.
Embrace me, for I fear loneliness;
The lamp is dim, and the wine which we pressed is closing our eyes.
Let us look upon each other before they are shut.
Find me with your arms and embrace me;
Let slumber then embrace our souls as one.
Kiss me, my beloved, for Winter has stolen all but our moving lips.

You are close by me, my Forever.
How deep and wide will be the ocean of Slumber,
And how recent was the dawn!

4:39 PM | 0 comments | Read More

THE LIFE OF LOVE

Spring

Come, my beloved; let us walk amidst the knolls,
For the snow is water,
And life is alive from its slumber and is roaming the hills and valleys.
Let us follow the footprints of Spring into the distant fields,
And mount the hilltops to draw inspiration high above the cool green plains.

Dawn of Spring has unfolded her winter-kept garment
And placed it on the peach and citrus trees;
And they appear as brides in the ceremonial custom of the Night of
Kedre.

The sprigs of grapevine embrace each other like sweethearts,
And the brooks burst out in dance between the rocks,
Repeating the song of joy;
And the flowers bud suddenly from the heart of nature,
Like foam from the rich heart of the sea.

Come, my beloved; let us drink the last of Winter’s tears from the cupped lilies,
And soothe our spirits with the shower of notes from the birds,
And wander in exhilaration through the intoxicating breeze.

Let us sit by that rock, where violets hide;
Let us pursue their exchange of the sweetness of kisses.

4:33 PM | 0 comments | Read More

THE BEAUTY OF DEATH: Calling

Part One – The Calling

Let me sleep, for my soul is intoxicated with love and
Let me rest, for my spirit has had its bounty of days and nights;
Light the candles and burn the incense around my bed, and
Scatter leaves of jasmine and roses over my body;
Embalm my hair with frankincense and sprinkle my feet with perfume,
And read what the hand of Death has written on my forehead.

Let me rest in the arms of Slumber, for my open eyes are tired;
Let the silver-stringed lyre quiver and soothe my spirit;
Weave from the harp and lute a veil around my withering heart.

Sing of the past as you behold the dawn of hope in my eyes, for
It’s magic meaning is a soft bed upon which my heart rests.

Dry your tears, my friends, and raise your heads as the flowers
Raise their crowns to greet the dawn.
Look at the bride of Death standing like a column of light
Between my bed and the infinite;
Hold your breath and listen with me to the beckoning rustle of her
white wings.

Come close and bid me farewell;
Touch my eyes with smiling lips.
Let the children grasp my hands with soft and rosy fingers;
Let the ages place their veined hands upon my head and bless me;
Let the virgins come close and see the shadow of God in my eyes,
And hear the echo of His will racing with my breath.

3:50 PM | 0 comments | Read More

LEAVE ME, MY BLAMER

Leave me, my blamer,
For the sake of the love which unites your soul with that of your beloved one;
For the sake of that which joins spirit with mothers affection,
And ties your heart with filial love.
Go, and leave me to my own weeping heart.

Let me sail in the ocean of my dreams;
Wait until Tomorrow comes,
For tomorrow is free to do with me as he wishes.
Your laying is naught but shadow
That walks with the spirit to the tomb of abashment,
And shows heard the cold, solid earth.

I have a little heart within me
And I like to bring him out of his prison and carry him on the palm of my hand
To examine him In depth and extract his secret.
Aim not your arrows at him,
Lest he takes fright and vanish ‘ere he pours the secret blood
As a sacrifice at the altar of his own faith,
Given him by Deity
When he fashioned him of love and beauty.

The sun is rising and the nightingale Is singing,
And the myrtle is breathing its fragrance into space.
I want to free myself from the quilted slumber of wrong.
Do not detain me, my blamer!

Cavil me not by mention of the lions of the forest
Or the snakes of the valley,
For me soul knows no fear of earth
And accepts no warning of evil before evil comes.

Advise me not, my blamer,
For calamities have opened my heart
And tears have cleansed my eyes,
And errors have taught me the language of the hearts.

Talk not of banishment, for conscience is my judge
And he will justify me and protect me if I am innocent,
And will deny me of life if I am a criminal.

Love’s procession is moving;
Beauty is waving her banner;
Youth is sounding the trumpet of joy;
Disturb not my contrition, my blamer.
Let me walk, for the path is rich with roses and mint,
And the air is scented with cleanliness.

Relate not the tales of wealth and greatness,
For my soul is rich with bounty and great with God’s glory.

Speak not of peoples and laws and kingdoms,
For the whole earth is my birthplace
And all humans are my brothers.

Go from me, for you are taking away life –
Giving repentance and bringing needless words.

3:32 PM | 0 comments | Read More

LAUGHTER AND TEARS

As the Sun withdrew his rays from the garden, and the moon threw cushioned beams upon the flowers, I sat under the trees pondering upon the phenomena of the atmosphere, looking through the branches at the strewn stars which glittered like chips of silver upon a blue carpet; and I could hear from a distance the agitated murmur of the rivulet singing its way briskly into the valley.

When the birds took shelter among the boughs, and the flowers folded their petals, and tremendous silence descended, I heard a rustle of feet though the grass. I took heed and saw a young couple approaching my arbour. The say under a tree where I could see them without being seen.

After he looked about in every direction, I heard the young man saying, “Sit by me, my beloved, and listen to my heart; smile, for your happiness is a symbol of our future; be merry, for the sparkling days rejoice with us.

“My soul is warning me of the doubt in your heart, for doubt in love is a sin. “Soon you will be the owner of this vast land, lighted by this beautiful moon; soon you will be the mistress of my palace, and all the servants and maids will obey your commands.

“Smile, my beloved, like the gold smiles from my father’s coffers.

“My heart refuses to deny you its secret. Twelve months of comfort and travel await us; for a year we will spend my father’s gold at the blue lakes of Switzerland, and viewing the edifices of Italy and Egypt, and resting under the Holy Cedars of Lebanon; you will meet the princesses who will envy you for your jewels and clothes.

“All these things I will do for you; will you be satisfied?”

In a little while I saw them walking and stepping on flowers as the rich step upon the hearts of the poor. As they disappeared from my sight, I commenced to make comparison between love and money, and to analyze their position in the heart.

Money! The source of insincere love; the spring of false light and fortune; the well of poisoned water; the desperation of old age!

I was still wandering in the vast desert of contemplation when a forlorn and spectre-like couple passed by me and sat on the grass; a young man and a young woman who had left their farming shacks in the nearby fields for this cool and solitary place.

After a few moments of complete silence, I heard the following words uttered with sighs from weather-bitten lips, “Shed not tears, my beloved; love that opens our eyes and enslaves our hearts can give us the blessing of patience. Be consoled in our delay our delay, for we have taken an oath and entered Love’s shrine; for our love will ever grow in adversity; for it is in Love’s name that we are suffering the obstacles of poverty and the sharpness of misery and the emptiness of separation. I shall attack these hardships until I triumph and place in your hands a strength that will help over all things to complete the journey of life.

“Love – which is God – will consider our sighs and tears as incense burned at His altar and He will reward us with fortitude. Good-bye, my beloved; I must leave before the heartening moon vanishes.”

A pure voice, combined of the consuming flame of love, and the hopeless bitterness of longing and the resolved sweetness of patience, said, “Good-bye, my beloved.”

They separated, and the elegy to their union was smothered by the wails of my crying heart.

I looked upon slumbering Nature, and with deep reflection discovered the reality of a vast and infinite thing – something no power could demand, influence acquire, nor riches purchase. Nor could it be effaced by the tears of time or deadened by sorrow; a thing which cannot be discovered by the blue lakes of Switzerland or the beautiful edifices of Italy.

It is something that gathers strength with patience, grows despite obstacles, warms in winter, flourishes in spring, casts a breeze in summer, and bears fruit in autumn – I found Love.

3:25 PM | 0 comments | Read More

THE POET

He is a link between this and the coming world.
He is a pure spring from which all thirsty souls may drink.

He is a tree watered by the River of Beauty,
Bearing fruit which the hungry heart craves;

He is a nightingale,
Soothing the depressed spirit with his beautiful melodies;
He is a white cloud appearing over the horizon,
Ascending and growing until it fills the face of the sky.
Then it falls on the flows in the field of Life,
Opening their petals to admit the light.

He is an angel,
Sent by the goddess to preach the Deity’s gospel;
He is a brilliant lamp,
Unconquered by darkness
And inextinguishable by the wind.
It is filled with oil by Ihstar of Love,
And lighted by Apollon of Music.

He is a solitary figure,
Robed in simplicity and kindness;
He sits upon the lap of Nature to draw his inspiration,
And stays up in the silence of the night,
Awaiting the descending of the spirit.

He is a sower
Who sows the seeds of his heart in the prairies of affection,
And humanity reaps the harvest for her nourishment.

This is the poet – whom the people ignore in this life,
And who is recognized only when he bids the earthly world farewell
And returns to his arbour in heaven.

This is the poet – who asks naught of humanity but a smile.
This is the poet – whose spirit ascends and fills the firmament with beautiful sayings;
Yet the people deny themselves his radiance.

Until when shall the people remain asleep?
Until when shall they continue to glorify those who attain greatness by moments of advantage?
How long shall they ignore those who enable them to see the beauty of their spirit,
Symbol of peace and love?

Until when shall human beings honour the dead and forget the living,
Who spend their lives encircled in misery,
And who consume themselves,
Like burning candles to illuminate the way
For the ignorant and lead them into the path of light?

Poet, you are the life of this life,
And you have triumphed over the ages of despite their severity.

Poet, you will one day rule the hearts,
And therefore, your kingdom has no ending.

Poet, examine your crown of thorns;
You will find concealed in it a budding wreath of laurel.

3:23 PM | 0 comments | Read More

SONG OF THE RAIN

I am dotted silver threads dropped from heaven by the gods.
Nature then takes me, to adorn her fields and valleys.

I am beautiful pearls,
Plucked from the crown of Ishtar by the daughter of Dawn to embellish the gardens.

When I cry the hills laugh;
When I humble myself the flowers rejoice;
When I bow, all things are elated.

The field and the cloud are lovers
And between them I am a messenger of mercy.
I quench the thirst of one;
I cure the ailment of the other.

The voice of thunder declares my arrival;
The rainbow announces my departure.
I am like earthly life,
Which begins at the feet of the mad elements
And ends under the upraised wings of death.

I emerge from the heard of the sea
Soar with the breeze.
When I see a field in need,
I descend and embrace the flowers and the trees in a million little ways.

I touch gently at the windows with my soft fingers,
And my announcement is a welcome song all can hear
But only the sensitive can understand.

The heat in the air gives birth to me,
But in turn I kill it,
As woman overcomes man with the strength she takes from him.

I am the sigh of the sea;
The laughter of the field;
The tears of heaven.

So with love –
Sighs from the deep sea of affection;
Laughter from the colourful field of the spirit;
Tears from the endless heaven of memories.

3:19 PM | 0 comments | Read More

SONG OF FORTUNE

Man and I are sweethearts
He craves me and I long for him,
But alas!
Between us has appeared a rival who brings us misery.
She is cruel and demanding,
Possessing empty lure.
Her name is Substance.
She follows wherever we go
And watches like a sentinel,
Bringing restlessness to my lover.

I ask for my beloved in the forest,
Under the trees, by the lakes.
I cannot find him,
For Substance has spirited him to the clamorous city
And placed him on the throne
Of quaking, metal riches.

I call for him with the voice of knowledge
And the song of Wisdom.
He does not hearken,
For Substance has enticed him into the dungeon
Of selfishness, where avarice dwells.

I seek him in the field of Contentment,
But I am alone,
For my rival has imprisoned him ,
I the cave of gluttony and greed,
And locked him there
With painful chains of gold.

I call to him at dawn, when Nature smiles,
But he does not hear,
For excess has laden his drugged eyes with sick slumber.

I beguile him at eventide, when Silence rules
And the flowers sleep.
But he responds not,
For his fear over what the morrow will bring shadows his thoughts.

He yearns to love me;
He asks for me in this own acts.
But he will find me not except in God’s acts.
He seeks me in the edifices of his glory
Which he has built upon the bones of others;
He whispers to me from among his heaps of gold and silver;
But he will find me only by coming to the house of Simplicity
Which God has built at the brink of the stream of affection.

He desires to kiss me before his coffers,
But his lips will never touch mine,
Except in the richness of the pure breeze.

He asks me to share with him his fabulous wealth,
But I will not forsake God’s fortune;
I will not cast off my cloak of beauty.

He seeks deceit for medium;
I seek only the medium of his heart.
He bruises his heart in his narrow cell;
I would enrich his heart with all my love.

My beloved has learned how to shriek and cry for my enemy, Substance;
I would teach him how to shed tears of affection
And mercy from the eyes of his soul
For all things,
And utter sighs of contentment through those tears.

Man is my sweetheart;
I want to belong to him.

3:06 PM | 0 comments | Read More

THE DYING MAN AND THE VULTURE

Wait, wait yet awhile, my eager friend.
I shall yield but too soon this wasted thing,
Whose agony overwrought and useless
Exhausts your patience.

I would not have your honest hunger
Wait upon these moments:
But this chain, though made of breath,
Is hard to break.
And the will to die,

Stronger than all things strong,
Is stayed by a will to live
Feebler than all things feeble.

Forgive me, comrade; I tarry too long.
It is memory that holds my spirit;
A procession of distant days,
A vision of youth spent in a dream,
A face that bids my eyelids not to sleep,
A voice that lingers in my ears,
A hand that touches my hand.

Forgive me that you have waited too long.
It is over now, and all is faded:
The face, the voice, the hand and the mist that brought them hither.
The knot is untied.
The cord is cleaved.

And that which is neither food nor drink is withdrawn.
Approach, my hungry comrade;
The board is made ready.
And the fare, frugal and spare,
Is given with love.

Come, and dig your beak here, into the left side,
And tear out of its cage this smaller bird,
Whose wings can beat no more:

I would have it soar with you into the sky.
Come now, my friend, I am your host tonight,
And you my welcome guest.

3:22 PM | 0 comments | Read More

LOVE

They say the jackal and the mole
Drink from the selfsame stream
Where the lion comes to drink.
And they say the eagle and the vulture
Dig their beaks into the same carcass,
And are at peace, one with the other,
In the presence of the dead thing.

O love, whose lordly hand
Has bridled my desires,
And raised my hunger and my thirst
To dignity and pride,
Let not the strong in me and the constant
Eat the bread or drink the wine
That tempt my weaker self.

Let me rather starve,
And let my heart parch with thirst,
And let me die and perish,
Ere I stretch my hand
To a cup you did not fill,
Or a bowl you did not bless.

2:25 PM | 0 comments | Read More