Gathered round a blazing camp fire –
Flame of white, like pure magnesia –
Sat a group of men of learning;
All had found their way with reasoning.
Each had spent a life in study,
Each had found his deeper wisdom,
Yet knew naught of any other’s.
Each had made a spirit-prison.
Said the one who carried with him
Nothing ‘cept the staff he walked with,
On his belt a carved mandala,
Set in which were grains of barley:
“Once upon a time in Asia
Did the son of Suddhodana
Leave the wheel of incarnations,
Teach the eightfold path with patience.”
Answered one who bore a tablet
Made of stone. This etched upon it
Bore the ancient Faravahar –
Winged disc – and hieroglyphics:
“Once upon a time in Persia
Lived a man named Zarathustra,
True of mind and true in speaking,;
Undiluted star-light seeking.”
‘Let the veils be drawn now, Hermes,
Cloak the truth; you might encrypt it.
Keep the signs but aide the journey
Of the searching soul, the mystic.
‘‘Draw thyself the hieroglyphics –
Found in space, the deep harmonic –
Bind in books our thoughts: Ellipses,
Angles, curves, through time atomic.
‘‘Water bearer, when your church is,
You shall find yourself an angel,
Name of ‘Peace’. Recall these verses
When the North-star turns to Vega.
‘‘Then, at last, shall seals be broken,
Holy words shall be respoken,
Love, in spirit, shall be woken,
Doors once closed shall then reopen.
‘‘No more bound the heart, Prometheus;
Free at last the fire bringer.
As Pandora stands divested
Of all things but Hope, which lingers.
‘So Apollo’s wolf shall wander
Through the forests, undercover
Of the moon. Her golden brother
Thus returns, reveals The Lover.
‘Forwards backwards, time is taking
Certain steps through every section.
Herein find the secret waiting:
Future from the past; reflection.’