Monday 24 May 2021


My soul, where are you?  Do you hear me?  I speak, I call you—are you there?  I have returned, I am here again. 

-- C.G. Jung, Liber Novus 

Framing the light of remembrance, for resplendence of higher thought.  Like a candle between two lovers.  Or a locket at the throat.  Voice and wisdom.  Saying what is difficult but necessary. What is true, with all my heart.  There are two places set for knowing, yet worlds apart.  We do not always love because it is easy.  We love because it is right.  This power.  Our power, never taken lightly.  Never held or handled cruelly.  Intimacy is far too precious a thing for that.  Like the innermost of a rose, or a hopeful heart.  From Tintagel to the mural, to the Rye.  I wander as Blake did.  Through sorrows.  Like those Alcyone days of bitter tempests and ships lost at sea.  Solstice tears upon the shore.  Tears that presage winged spirits of sky and flame, rising from the churning sea.  Poetry and prosper, betrothed to chalice and spear.  A language of birds to heal the maimed.  The wounded.  These many-splendored stories beyond war.  Beyond all lands of waste, closer to those idylls of imagined kings.  Knights like hours at the circle of eternity.  Oma'turi thea.  But there are always two parts to a dance, aren't there?  Inspiration and response.  An answer and an answer back.  Reciprocity of this leading way, this open path.  This is the dialogue that all wraiths have failed to kill.  The two becoming one, becoming three.  Fallen, tell me; what do you really grasp of this trinity?  Who is the spirit that stands in the gate?  Do you know his many names?  A Mother's Child.  Tree of Creation, ablaze with angelic flame.  Regarding no soul above the other.  All are equal at the table of the innermost, all welcomed to the feast.  Bread, wine, possibility.  Fishers and kings.  Echoes of this echo, like the faintest music in the mist.  Heard from a distant hill.  Keepers of the true grail, we are here now.  Together, dreaming these sacred opportunites for love.  Weaving light into living.  We are met at this union of the ways.  Ascending, for resplendence of higher thought. 

No comments:

Post a Comment