Terra Incognita

 

Beyond the shores of illusion

of the surreal objective manifestation

the most diaphanous shade

wanders speaking in tongues

 

The meat of him a penumbra

no amnion or membrane

to contain him, dissipate

with only telepathic friends

 

A gossamer existence

no cause nor effect

a simple white tsalmaveth descending

ever, the celestial staircase

 

A shade standing always

just behind the living

and pointing them direct to the sun

a pillar of salt, deserted

 

Dancing all the limbo

without any bars

no hurdles, no gaols

in the vast austerity of Cosmos

 

No maps here

no lonely planet guide

just a subtle melange of spice

an entheogen for his own apotheosis

 

The beneficent  Mahātmā

who pyres his Soul

henceforth walking the tides

of all humanity, forever

 

The subtle olfactory body

his Atmic vehicle

extends far beyond continua

sniffing at all the winds in creation

 

Searching ever the treasure chest

to uncover the purpose

hidden on tropical isles

for his last peroration

 

Beyond the shores of illusion

of the surreal objective manifestation

the most diaphanous shade

wanders speaking only in tongues

 

 

Which no one else can understand… …

The Hooded Man

hunting echoes

in a canyon

with a ceremonial

drum

 

wearing an overcoat

of shadows

belonging to

someone else

 

seeking a river’s tears

under a willow tree

being coy with carp

and an egret

 

wobbling with

the newborn deer

in ignorance grass

on poppy meadows

 

where remembering

brings no opium

not for ghosts

or djinns

 

counting cherry stones

piled in perfect balance

a heap of Sakurai

in the making

 

a sandwich of Satori

rice paper fine

and as delicate

as dew

 

the dawn chases away

echoes and shadows

and walks daisies,

petal footsteps in the stream

 

tickling toes between

washing scales

as the sunlight

twinkles

 

the mists yawn

the trees sway

dancing mirror ponds

shimmer sequins

 

the stars stretch

their cosmic arms

teasing the hair

of night’s sky

 

and now even echoes

chime no more

Pie Jesu in the snow

as a lamb sings

 

frolicking with buttercups

and dents-de-lions

shorn of shadow coats

and now naked

 

no more soul

to clothe him

not now

not ever

 

the land of shadows

fades misty fast

without meals

or succour

 

and diamond eyed,

glinting galaxies,

he pulls up his cowl

the hooded man

 

… … hunts no more

A midsummer’s night dream

Free association on the theme of Puck and Ariel and Robin.

Playing with language..

————————————————-

How now, my love! why is your cheek so pale?

How chance the roses there do fade so fast? 

Belike for want of rain, which I could well

Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes.

 

Hail Robin 

Well met

 

Wither wander’st thou

This shortest night?

 

Out ‘pon the streams

Of the field of dreams

Seeking for the longest mile

Within the tear’s fairest smile

 

For the faery King

Has lost his way

And all the sprites they sing

To save, perhaps this very day

 

Are you not old Nick?

In another guise

To question and to trick

With the rhyme of the jester’s  lies?

 

An honest Puck am I

As simple and as fair

As is the day

And often wondering

Which of many is 

Now my way

 

Fear you not

Oberon’s fell

And mighty wrath?

 

As the changeling

With nothing to hide

Where is such a storm

That I cannot ride

 

For as the temper

Rises its own distemper

The sure and secure

Doth hidden things, procure

 

And the method

Is but a way

That has before served

In the battle’s fray

 

Yet Robin

The pearls

They rise

In your eyes

What makes this so?

 

‘Tis the rust

Of trust

 

That cuts my

Finger bones

And the doubt

In me and of me

That marks my

Funeral stones

 

So you stay

From Oberon’s court?

 

To wander

In the woods

Of a goblin night

And face all the fright

 

And for such reward

It makes even the Puck

An honest steward

As ever there was luck

 

Wonder at the wise

Of it all

And look to the clearing

In the thrall

 

Of the size

Of a summer wood

And start to question

If even the Puck is good

 

For Robin he has his own

Doubt so often sewn

And to build on this

Makes not his dearest wish

 

So now from you to quote:

How now, spirit! whither wander you?

 

 

I wander on the dream’s

Faintest cusp

And search for hint

That is borne of sleep’s

Freshest mint

 

And will let

The captain of my soul

Point me forward

And reveal my role

 

And hope and pray

That the dream

Will now light the way

 

For on this stage

The lights are, still

And in this age

We are no longer

The subject of our will

And us makes stronger

 

For a dream

Cannot single be

It is as was written

‘pon the cosmic tree

 

Hail Robin 

Well met

I wish you well

Upon your trek

 

And Ariel

So to you

Be of your best

In all you do

 

And as we share

The ephemera of the air

Let us float

On the wind

And see what mischief

Of our kind

 

If we shadows have offended,

Think but this, and all is mended,

That you have but slumber’d here

While these visions did appear.

And this weak and idle theme,

No more yielding but a dream,

Gentles, do not reprehend:if you pardon, we will mend:

And, as I am an honest Puck,

If we have unearned luck

Now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue,

We will make amends ere long;

Else the Puck a liar call;

So, good night unto you all.

Give me your hands, if we be friends,

And Robin shall restore amends.