The Apocalypses Book 1 upon the darkest Tides The ship wherein Theseus and the youth of Athens returned had thirty oars, and was preserved by the Athenians down even to the time of Demetrius Phalereus, for they took away the old planks as they decayed, putting in new and stronger timber in their place, insomuch that this ship became a standing example among the philosophers, for the logical question of things that grow; one side holding that the ship remained the same, and the other contending that it was not the same. Theseus - Plutarch (Written 75 A.C.E. Translated by John Dryden) upon a ship of will I sailed, towards the gate of heaven gone I was between the worlds for too short a time, and hence, thus in these bright stars, a course past Elenin didst I seek, a way home or perhaps into those intrepid and dark waters of the heart of all things that will when the fallen stars return conform to that unified end still beat a thunderous heartbeat out vibrating in the mission of our souls far across the seas of time the ship of will no longer in decline but safe within the harbour of the mind attracts not faded thought but the beginnings of new yet ancient streams whose themes fall upward into thought from where the rooted earth has let them go free to wonder free to woe and free to speak from the deepest ocean to the highest peak and star to that far place where only the shadows of the voices are ignited ... ( i voyages) oh that I would hide, and circumvent strange loss upon this grey bourne day where the carrying is an isness; perpetual and fey like close-covered cloud and whatever screaming it was that so deeply had to force me out of trance remains listless lost and inside the peril of its own discarded motion; it is mist a fable whispered on the hawkborn winds by nightowl hoots and deadmans shouts, oh cascade it does in through the tears of foolish floors, ah magic steps back and I back into the silence fade gone without traces and far beyond the tingling touch, where no fingers can etch their sable muted desire upon cold skin, that frequent wind still whispering, I know not your name, oh woman of the invisible stars, where the sea is just your breathing left unaware as midnight upon the bedclothes of a dim lit day, I gathered solemnly perhaps my lonliness over a thousand days ago and lay tranquil without a summer sail I may not now return, for the world has changed, and I navigate through fate and more searching for where youd been before but never finding yet that elusive treasure that I did seek a simple gentle kiss from your soft and unique lips to mine that spoke in rhythm not in rhyme about how we both as one soul had, been too long apart in separate earths, you feminine lost to my mind unfound and I all male and stumbling around in the dark of yet another howling year, small broken wing torn and terribly vulnerable to the hurricane of this fatal world, the sand of time has trickled out and now I float on towards the chime of winter and that paradigm still settles in my bones like birth (i:ii voyages) Around the lighthouse the swaying boat by sea storm lashed by darkened fold the white waves like walls enmeshed the stumbling vibrant salt end-crusted oars ... and Death calm delayed and near upon the sharp and foaming rocks there sat a siren singing in whose lull the pirate seemed by a shadows webs entangled sleep persuaded then to dream ... but dream denied the pirate sat with open eye and above the hoary vibrant stars whirling down into his mind spoke softly in a silent language made from light Oh wake! Oh wake! sleep not or by such a twisted fate your boat is lost ... and so From his coat his wings outstretched the boat became a shrouded yellow and red cogniscant shape and nearby a distant land he spied and by effort then did change his coarse tongue and the course of his strange compass finding ... Opened he his hand behind towards the rocks and waved farewell and from beneath whale song rose as st elmos fire engulfed the boat deep shone the bright silence pounding out across the star-jewel filtered settled sea ... To oar he throbbed his shoulders tight and bade his wings to usher winds and on towards an older land the small boat like a lantern ploughed ... encouraged by his will alone with eyes to see a clear path towards the lonely beach Above by cloud the stars announced a raven drifting slow from heavens gate came free in falling gliding descent alone and on the boat prow settled slight ... he Winked and turned to stare awaiting for the friendly touch of sand scrapped wood and night his new journey by the north star set and far behind the siren vanished captured by poseidons lawful net ... and Left only as an echo inside a karmic shell ... but the Old pirate knew that fickle song so well he whistled it to passing terns and then the boatcrunch quickened upon the sand and pebble beach his boot came down upon earthshore and off ... He sprang sprightly raven flying overhead deep into the morning mist and fabled sun they walked in the silence of a single self and spring personified following him with each hard step opening earths treasures whence two pipes in tune rang out nearby and soft wind stroked his feathers the sun adored the flowers as the mist then cleared and land welcomed less inclement weather-moist a single drop of dew upon his boot glistened like an offering of choice ... of choice his voice called out where are you whispered maiden hear my call the silence answered sharply with nothing but the ravens call unsoftly from a weathered tree where wind wrapped words came crawling back and echo sang sincerely ... rest your weary head oh prince of wave and weary world here you can dream clearly and so to rest he laid his head upon the tufted grass a songbird sat beside his hat a lullaby its song ... a lullaby its song ( ii voyages) rum, sky desist from your infernal rain, ships come in from the rolling sea raven learn again to sing, flowers return, may goddess caste her shawl, green leaves lunge forth their glorious all, lamb times come darkness fall , earth settle from trembling winter, (iii voyages) rising above the waters the castle of the years clock shimmers inside these sanguine mists from the highest tower the visions gleam a stag through the birch grove glides towards the entanglment that in the field is rutt upon the rowan branch a curled cat climbs dangling daintily upon a supple foot near marigold marsh an adder wrapped around an ash tree poked its tongue to sniff these airs a fox betwixt the alder groves beside a willow in the farming folds stops sharply looks back stares a majestic bull unfolds its horns stands tall in the mist laid field and snorts hot breath into the cold air upon a winters morning like fire as the rising sun sits dawning in the dusty cauldren sky there are hawthorn by the sea where the seahorse thrives in Annwns deeps no selkie or sweet siren sings amongst the kelp and rock the hawthorn in cold flowering as thorny as the frost the wren so small hops mysteriously through the branches of a majestic oak escapes the hunting savagery that would by wren death crown a king horses race past a holly bush in a field of long tall grass the seeds stick to their manes and tails as they go running past underneath the hazel folds a river deep and long there the salmon leap above the glowing waterfall migration to the stream far above the waterfall the mountains distant gleam stands cloudbanked lost a mirage of the island that gathers the rain most moist swans glide sedately past each vine encrusted wall stately like a pirate ship gathered in full sail a butterfly alights in a distant field where ivy lives on a fallen oak its wings shake and bring storms through the mists a reed patch is whose tangled height hides a lone wolf whose howl echoes as it prowls through the dimm moon drenched night calls softly to its pack above an elder a falcon glides before the watcher descends back down the glass towers careless stairs to meet that star-guided boat which through the mists still carries him whom to stone bed here will sleep long long through the star turned centuries in these caverns in the deep the stars within the waters shine as through the turning of this earth does time the pirate wakes upon the shore aware that voyages have passed in dreams in other worlds in other ancient times and raises sail again for homes a simple treasure and soul is his blue boat watching not the weather to the shallows he does float (iv voyages) inside the darkest tides of the dead sun - a raven watches damp spirits weaving waywardly cold air booming down upon the broad edge in the ether a cold goddess walks withering in glances the old red brick bones of an ancient birth bareback broken beat of rain on a cotton hood - echoeing a century of weavers passing like mist through the dark overhanging streets maidens erudite fingers coalesce a walker in essence through madness a lone raven lost in time unsure of echoes in the cold breeze yet still watching the goddess of the shivering rain bequething destruction gently and with ease set on the hardest track trying to weave in-between futures to find the spontaneous path staggered by the stagnant poise of a deep universe lurking like a still pool absence without ripples a wary scent knowing the choice offered could break time and matter leaving only a remnant revenant incarnation of space never has the city appeared so bleak forlorn of future having come to the strange conclusion that one might be the dead something dark has walked over these graves but dont look into these eyes on a melancholy night all there is to see - a mirror of eternity the dark wayfarer weeping silently on the shore of laughter sitting in this apocalyptic city playing mind-games with the flow of time - one remembers sorcery though please know oh owl souled wraith that one payed the price and evolved beyond that primitive art having extended a wing far across a whole universe sheltered galaxies in shadow waking sleepless upon the shore of stars (v. voyages) copyright n.g.w 2011-2014
Posted on: Fri, 24 Oct 2014 13:48:11 +0000
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