Sep 092016
 

moth-to-solar-flameI remember one night lying sleepless in bed,
That I heard what the moth to the fair candle said:
“A lover am I, if I burn it is well!
Why you should lie weeping and burning, do tell.”
“Oh my poor humble lover!” the caudle replied,
“My friend, the sweet honey away from we hied.
When sweetness away from my body departs,
A fire-like Farhads to my summit then starts.”
Thus she spoke, and each movement a torrent of pain
Adown her pale cheeks trickled freely like rain.
“Oh, suitor! with love you have nothing to do,
Since nor patience, nor power of standing have you.
Oh, crude one! a flame makes you hasten away;
But I, till completely consumed, have to stay.
If the burning of love makes your wings feel this heat,
See how I am consumed, from the head to the feet!”
But a very small portion had passed of the night
When a fairy-fated maiden extinguished her light.
She was saying while smoke from her head curled above,
“Thus ends, oh my boy, the existence of love!”
If the love-making science you wish to acquire,
You’re more happy extinguished than being on fire.
Do not weep o’er the grave of the slain for the friend:
Be glad! for to him lie will mercy extend.
If a lover, don’t wash the complaint from your head!

******
I have told you: don’t enter this ocean at all!
If you do; yield your life to the hurricane squall!

Conversation between the Candle and the Moth, translation G S Davie

Oct 232011
 

Rich in blossoms many tinted, grateful to the ravished eye,
 Gay and green and glorious Kanka was like garden of the sky,

Rich in fruit and laden creeper and in beauteous bush and trep.
 Flower-bespangled golden Lanka was like gem-bespangled sea!

Rose a palace in the woodlands girt by pillars strong and high.
 Snowy-white like fair Kailasa cleaving through the azure sky,

And its steps were ocean coral and its pavement yellow gold .
White and gay and heaven-aspiring rose the structure high and bold!

By the rich and royal mansion Hanuman his eyes did rest,
 On a woman sad and sorrowing in her sylvan garments drest,

Like the moon obscured and clouded, dim with shadows deep and dark,
 Like the smoke-enshrouded red fire, dying with a feeble spark,

Like the tempest-pelted lotus by the wind and torrent shaken,
 Like the beauteous star Rohini by a graha overtaken!

Fasts and vigils paled her beauty, tears bedimmed her tender grace,
 Anguish dwelt within her bosom, sorrow darkened on her face,

And she lived by Rakshas guarded, as a faint and timid deer,
 Severed from her herd and kindred when the prowling wolves are near,

And her raven locks ungathered hung behind in single braid,
 And her gentle eye was lightless, and her brow was hid in shade!

“This is she! the peerless princess, Rama’s consort loved and lost,
 This is she! the saintly Sita, by a cruel fortune crost,”

Hanuman thus thought and pondered: “On her graceful form I spy,
 Gems and gold by sorrowing Rama oft depicted with it sigh,

On her ears the golden pendants and the tiger’s sharpened tooth,
 On her arms the jewelled bracelets, tokens of unchanging truth,

On her pallid brow and bosom still the radiant jewels shine,
 Rama with a sweet affection did in early days entwine!

Hermit’s garments clothe her person, braided is her raven hair,
 Matted bark of trees of forest drape her neck and bosom fair,

And a dower of dazzling beauty still bedecks her peerless face.
 Though the shadowing tinge of sorrow darkens all her earlier grace!

This is she! the soft-eyed Sita, wept with unavailing tear,
 This is she! the faithful consort, unto Rama ever dear,

Unforgetting and unchanging, truthful still in deed and word,
 Sita, in her silent suffering sorrows for her absent lord,

Still for Rama lost but cherished, Sita heaves the choking sigh,
 Sita lives for righteous Rama, for her Rama she would die!”

Jul 052011
 

Put now your ear to the seashell of memory,
Walk through the glistening rainbow of promise,
Sun on the ocean makes ripples of magic,
Star of the sea and pure bride of Adonis.

Then will the sea-priestess, white in the starlight,
Raise up her arms at the moon gliding by,
Sing the enchantment that harnessed the ocean,
Dance in the circles that meted out night.

Sea nymphs are whispering ‘Shayla remember…
Mesmerised mermaids and undines glide
Deep in the moonlight of hypnotised sailors;
Drawn by the current that governs all tides.

Whispering ‘Shayla, return to your kingdom,
Sister and daughter, rejoice with your kind…’
Shimmering crystal, the doors of the palace
lay on the seabed, beguiling still waters.

She who sells sea shells upon the sea shore,
Walked through the turquoise and paused at the entrance
Looked through the shimmering aqua at kinsmen,
Heard that the voices were soft but relentless.

Soft as the breeze on the salt of the ocean,
Gentle as rustles the wind through the trees,
Whispering over and over her secret,
Meaning; she hailed from the palace of dreams

Stopped at the threshold the fairytale maiden,
Thought of a promise once made in the spring,
Called to remembrance the angel who loved her,
Said: I relinquish the realm of the sea.

Go, little mermaid, they turned away weeping,
As she, the self, was set free and made mortal.
As you lie dreaming of rainbows in summer,
Seeking the memory, then think of this portal.

Sister, oh sister, how sorry we are now
So went the whispers, the shadows of light.
From the unconsciousness reason found mercy;
Words without doubt put magicians to flight.

Three that give birth from the fiery water
Seven the spheres and reflective of heaven,
Twelve that encircle and bring to completion,
Doubles in number of holy eleven.

Queen of the silver beam, king of all, golden,
Red the blood flowing through milky-white rivers
Bring generation to life in your nature,
Die by the heat but in hope be uprisen.

Light came aurora and pinker than sapphire,
Orange as anything orange is yellow,
Redder than berries of green in the meadow,
Bluer than dawn is, an indigo fire.

Promises, promises, rainbows and birdsong,
Speak of the vow that just cannot be broken
Time has no meaning and space is illusion,
Born is Creation, by God’s word is spoken.

Jul 042011
 

I lifted up skyward the crown of the faeries,
Tarnished by oceans of sea-crossing time.
Forged in the fire of golden-days dawning,
Lit with a halo of stars in the night.

Who now shall wear it? I wondered in silence
Una is resting with Duessa at play.
Gwenevere wanders in halls of forgetting,
Deep in the summer of dreaming this day.

On her feet sandals of gold, steps the princess,
Floating on air through the green garden grass,
Walking alone by the castle of ether,
Seen but unseen by the world through a glass.

The seal of the nether-world opened up freely;
Through the dark tunnel with reason behind,
Following meekly the one with a mission;
Perfect in will and a reader of signs.

Once past the stream of the guardian lizards,
On through the gate to the bright other place,
Land of reflection and fathomless knowledge,
Home elemental of alchemic race.

Where do we go? I looked left and then eastward,
Somehow forboding the place that I saw.
Life’s university, building of sandstone
Burnished and gleaming, a prison by law.

Silent, but knowing, did reason stand sweetly
Holder of mysteries, the teacher and guide.
Younger and wiser and older all-seeing,
Dressed up in white and demure by my side.

Then came a voice – and as if out of nowhere –
Do you need help, you seem lost in this realm?
There stood a faerie, bewitchingly golden
Silken and spun was her hair from the sun

Stepped forth the reason – seduced by her magic –
Stretched out a hand to her beautiful hair.
Won’t you come with me? The faerie enticed us,
Stop by the hearth of the potter this day...

Brooding I pondered, could faeries be trusted?
Should I be swayed from the pathway assigned?
Yet I had watched how my reason surrendered
So before airs of a beautiful kind….

Loathe to offend such a glorious being,
One who had offered with kindness and grace,
Help just when needed. I bowed to the faerie;
Take now your highness my reason away.

Then the wind changed as a wandering mistral,
Warm as the breeze on a meadow of wheat,
Swift, warm and golden the faerie-bird air-borne
Flew o’er myself that fell under her wing.

Passed by all time as I sailed down the sleep-stream,
Far to the land where the doe and stag graze.
Home to the garden that blooms East of Eden,
Land of the ancestors covered in praise.

Opened my eyes as I reached the cool garden
Wonder-filled, wide, as memories unfolded.
Looked up the stag and the doe from their incline,
Wakened my self from the river of time.

Safe in the knowledge of paradise tended,
Turned I my thought to the reason once lost.
So in a blink of my eye I went searching,
Straight to the hearth of the faerie-bird’s host.

Apr 232011
 

‘‘That’s the good news – more may follow –
But for now, this pill you’ll swallow:
Floods are overdue, I’m thinking;
All of Egypt’s hardly drinking.

‘‘Let there be a great disaster,
Something of a future mystery,
Just to show I’m Lord and Master,
Godly King of timeless history.

‘‘Thinks me now, it’s time to end the
Wider ocean realm. Atlantic
Trading ceases now and Cretans –
I have deemed – are sacrificial.

‘All the learned priests, however,
Those who keep the sacred science,
They’ll escape, I think, to Egypt,
Therein teach the code’s appliance.

‘‘See, vain Greeks, the Mother Isis,
She who yields the greatest brightness,
Guarded now by this, the dog-star;
Point on which to ponder, Priestess.

‘‘Look into the West, fair brothers,
See the setting sun of Horus,
Eye of Falcon prince – the symbol
Once of Ra – who’s ever-watchful.

‘‘Lo, behold, the East, fair sisters,
See the golden calf of Horus,
Which, by noon, shall wax enormous,
Such a bull to beat all others.

‘‘That, you’ll find – beloved Hermes,
He who dared through time to journey –
Should be just enough to conquer
Taurus and those other monsters.’

Mar 022011
 

The firmament was now flooded with moonlight, as if the moon’s orb, which had not yet risen far, was, like the waterpipe of the temple of the universe, discharging a thousand streams of the heavenly Ganges, pouring forth the waves of an ambrosial ocean, shedding many a cascade of sandal-juice, and bearing floods of nectar; the world seemed to learn what life was in the White Continent, and the pleasures of seeing the land of Soma;

the round earth was being poured out from the deptbs of a Milky Ocean by the moon, which was like the rounded tusk of the Great jioar; the moonrise offerings were being presented in every house by the women with sandal-water fragrant with open lotuses; the highways were crowded with thousands of women-messengers sent by fair ladies; girls going to meet their lovers ran hither and thither, veiled in blue silk and fluttered by the dread of the bright moonlight as if they were the nymphs of the white day lotus groves concealed in the splendours of the blue lotuses;

the sky became an alluvial island in the river of night, with its centre whitened by tlie thick pollen of the groves of open night lotuses ; while the night lotus-beds in the house-tanks were waking, encircled by bees which clung to every blossom; the world of mortals was, like the ocean, unable to contain the joy of moonrise, and seemed made of love, of festivity, of mirth, and of tenderness : evening was pleasant with the murmur of peacocks garrulous in gladness at the cascade that fell from the waterpipes of moonstone.

*

Destiny is strong. We cannot even draw a breath at our own will. The freaks of that accursed and most harsh destiny are exceeding cruel. A love fair in its sincerity is not allowed long to endure; for joys are wont to be in their essence frail and unlasting, while sorrows by their nature are long-lived. For how hardly are mortals united in one life, while in a thousand lives they are separated. Thou canst not surely then blame thyself, all undeserving of blame. For these things often happen to those who enter the tangled path of Harivaipia, and it is the brave who conquer misfortune

“This evil Love,’ thought he, “has a power hard alike to cure and to endure. For even great men, when overcome by him, regard not the course of time, but suddenly lose all courage and surrender life. Yet all hail to Love, whose rule is honoured throughout the three worlds!’ And again he asked her: “She that was thy handmaiden, thy friend in the resolve to dwell in the woods, and the sharer of the ascetic vow taken in thy sorrow — Taralika, where is she?’

Kadambari, Bana

Oct 182010
 

“Tell me, Circe, who is to guide me on the way? No one has ever sailed a black ship into Hell.”

“Odysseus,” the goddess answered me, “don’t think of lingering on shore for lack of a pilot. Set up your mast, spread the white sail and sit down in the ship.

The North Wind will blow her on her way; and when she has brought you across the River of Ocean, you will come to a wild coast and to Persephone’s Grove, where the tall poplars grow and the willows that so quickly shed their seeds.

Beach your boat there by Ocean’s swirling stream and march on into Hades’ Kingdom of Decay. There the River of Flaming Fire and the River of Lamentation, which is a branch of the Waters of the Styx, unite round a pinnacle of rock to pour their thundering streams into Acheron.

This is the spot, my lord, that I bid you to seek out. Once there, dig a trench about a cubit long and a cubit in breadth. Around this trench pour offerings to all the dead, first with honey mixed with milk, then with sweet wine, and last of all with water. Over all this sprinkle white barley and then begin your prayers to the helpless ghosts of the dead. Promise them that once you are in Ithaca you will sacrifice in your place a barre heifer, the best that you have, and will heap the pyre with treasures and make Teiresias a separate offering of the finest jet black sheep to be found in your flock.

When you have finished your invocations to the glorious fellowship of the dead, sacrifice a young ram and a black ewe, holding their heads down towards Erebus while you turn your own aside, as though about to recross the River of Ocean. Then the souls of the dead and departed will come up in their multitudes and you must bid your men make haste to flay the sheep that that are lying slaughtered by your blade, and burn them up while they pray to the gods, to mighty Hades and august Persephone.

Sit still yourself, meanwhile, with your drawn sword in your hand, and do not let any of the helpless ghosts come near the blood till you have had speech with Teiresias. Presently the prophet himself will come to you, my lord king. And he will lay down for you your journey and the distances to be covered, and direct you home across the fish-delighting seas.”

Circe finished, and soon after the Dawn enthroned herself in gold.

Homer, The Odyssey

Jun 092010
 

It should be seen and heard that repentance has been brought into actualization and has now been fully activated by the collective knowledge of the requisite number of beings.

May the spirit of the offering be received as it was made, with pure intent.

The perfect sacrifice is that which is most dearly beloved yet does no longer involve the corporeal shedding of blood.

There are those who fear that the deepest esoteric secrets and teachings of the original universal states would be exposed and taken in vain and it is to be hoped that the encryption is secure enough to prevent wrongful disclosure.

Overall it is considered now that things once kept as a reserve for the few should now be made available to one and all, in the interest of equality. To remain open to evolutionary change is a fundamental duty of the priests of true religions.

To proceed with care is necessary for there is a paradox that must be maintained in order to preserve mystical essence and the corpus of strength whilst ensuring that light within this body is allowed to penetrate beyond the boundaries of dogma.

That all was created through the technicolour language of love with joy and pain is known; the writing on the walls has been seen. The consequential beauty was so immeasurable as to be rendered invisible to the naked eye in all ways but one that is nature unveiled.

This in itself is that which is usually seen and is the perpetual unfoldment of an immaculate conception. Immaculate because it was brought into being that it may be more than a figment of love’s imagination.

The perfect original as it came into effect during the given age is therefore experienced but frequently unknown though this has been shown. There is more that could be said of the creation but the only word capable of defining this much is held within. The captive heart of love is bound forever by the memory of how it felt to remember this. Fortune was blessed as a spectrum of light stretched across the soul’s plane to show that the mirror of heaven is upon the Earth.

This is to bring hope anew to whosoever has fainted from despair and sees, though they cannot yet believe, that the circle of the arch of the sky is completed beneath the surface of the oceans and sands.

May 302010
 

The scene changed again and we were in a completely dark chamber. All I was aware of was a kind of book she placed in my hands, but it was not like an ordinary book. I’m not sure what it was made of but it was white and a double ‘page’ and at first it was completely blank.

As I peered at it, somewhat puzzled, writing began to appear, just a few letters, which I could not understand at all. The words just materialized as if they were being written or carved in front of me, from right to left. The only thing I could think was that it was all in triangles, apart from one letter that was comprised of three short diagonal lines in parallel.

I spent a fair bit of time afterward looking up ancient scripts for something that might have matched it, and found a few things that might have fit the bill. I can only really remember two of the letters for sure: The complete triangle and the one with 3 diagonal lines on the left of it, which was like an epsilon.

I felt a bit below par for not understanding and a moment after that the scene changed again. My entire vision was filled with a smooth, grey, soothing and pleasantly curved object. Lifting my head I soon realized I was lying face down staring at a big pebble and, as I got to my feet, it was to find myself on the shore of a very clear, calm, green-grey sea in daytime.

I looked out to sea and was struck with a sense of profound wonder and mystification, because there was nothing but calm sea  in front of me, but I felt certain I had just been somewhere beneath the waves.

I was not thinking of Atlantis at this point, I was just wondering where this place had come from or gone to. I wondered how it was that I’d seen the sky so clearly if the place was underwater. I had an impulse to dive back into the water and on impulse started to move forwards, intending to do just that, but then a face suddenly appeared in front of me which made me jump out of my skin.

It was a very friendly, smiling black man with shining eyes and short dark hair, but he made me jump so much I was scared. It was like I’d never seen a black man before! A moment later I felt guilty for being scared and gave him a hug, apologizing quite profusely. I had a kind of feeling he may have rescued me in some way, or found me on the sea shore – chances are it was him that had pulled my head up.

The next moment I was back in my bedroom and shortly afterward I fell asleep.

May 302010
 

The more I looked, the weirder it seemed. I’d never seen anything remotely like it. It wasn’t a particularly attractive being, in fact he seemed somehow intolerant or irritable and reminded me of both a doctor and a tutor I used to have an university who was never very impressed with me.

He looked like a kind of catfish and I was led to understand he was the guardian of the threshold. He said something to my spirit or etheric or astral self that I did not actually hear (I’ve no idea how to describe that bit of the self which goes on such journeys) and that part of myself said something back that I didn’t hear either.

I often find that communication in that dimension does not involve words or speech, as such, or even knowledge, there just appear to be right and wrong questions and answers that are predetermined elsewhere, as if by a script. The information is simply, somehow, relayed.

At that point I was still with my eyes wide open lying in bed, staring at the fish. Then – with no warning whatsoever – there was a split second where I lost consciousness and when I next opened my eyes I was no longer in the bedroom but was well and truly at the bottom of a murky green-grey ocean, half hidden by reeds or seaweed or algae or something, staring in absolute amazement – the word does not adequately describe how I felt – at what I later called a half man, half fish.

In fact it looked more like a half-man half-serpent, but at the time I was thinking fishes. I was gobsmacked by both the sight and the situation I’d somehow arrived at, which bore no resemblance to anything I’d ever imagined.