We met but once

We met but in one giddy dance,

Good-night joined hands with greeting;

And twenty thousand things may chance

Before our second meeting;

For oh! I have been often told

That all the world grows older,

And hearts and hopes to-day so cold,

To-morrow must be colder.

The Goblin Market

Goblin Market - Christina Rossetti

MORNING and evening
Maids heard the goblins cry:
"Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy:
Apples and quinces,
Lemons and oranges,
Plump unpecked cherries-
Melons and raspberries,
Bloom-down-cheeked peaches,
Swart-headed mulberries,
Wild free-born cranberries,
Crab-apples, dewberries,
Pine-apples, blackberries,
Apricots, strawberries--
All ripe together
In summer weather--
Morns that pass by,
Fair eves that fly;
Come buy, come buy;
Our grapes fresh from the vine,
Pomegranates full and fine,
Dates and sharp bullaces,
Rare pears and greengages,
Damsons and bilberries,
Taste them and try:
Currants and gooseberries,
Bright-fire-like barberries,
Figs to fill your mouth,
Citrons from the South,
Sweet to tongue and sound to eye,
Come buy, come buy."
Evening by evening
Among the brookside rushes,
Laura bowed her head to hear,
Lizzie veiled her blushes:
Crouching close together
In the cooling weather,
With clasping arms and cautioning lips,
With tingling cheeks and finger-tips.
"Lie close," Laura said,
Pricking up her golden head:
We must not look at goblin men,
We must not buy their fruits:
Who knows upon what soil they fed
Their hungry thirsty roots?"
"Come buy," call the goblins
Hobbling down the glen.
"O! cried Lizzie, Laura, Laura,
You should not peep at goblin men."
Lizzie covered up her eyes
Covered close lest they should look;
Laura reared her glossy head,
And whispered like the restless brook:
"Look, Lizzie, look, Lizzie,
Down the glen tramp little men.
One hauls a basket,
One bears a plate,
One lugs a golden dish
Of many pounds' weight.
How fair the vine must grow
Whose grapes are so luscious;
How warm the wind must blow
Through those fruit bushes."
"No," said Lizzie, "no, no, no;
Their offers should not charm us,
Their evil gifts would harm us."
She thrust a dimpled finger
In each ear, shut eyes and ran:
Curious Laura chose to linger
Wondering at each merchant man.
One had a cat's face,
One whisked a tail,
One tramped at a rat's pace,
One crawled like a snail,
One like a wombat prowled obtuse and furry,
One like a ratel tumbled hurry-scurry.
Lizzie heard a voice like voice of doves
Cooing all together:
They sounded kind and full of loves
In the pleasant weather.
Laura stretched her gleaming neck
Like a rush-imbedded swan,
Like a lily from the beck,
Like a moonlit poplar branch,
Like a vessel at the launch
When its last restraint is gone.
Backwards up the mossy glen
Turned and trooped the goblin men,
With their shrill repeated cry,
"Come buy, come buy."
When they reached where Laura was
They stood stock still upon the moss,
Leering at each other,
Brother with queer brother;
Signalling each other,
Brother with sly brother.
One set his basket down,
One reared his plate;
One began to weave a crown
Of tendrils, leaves, and rough nuts brown
(Men sell not such in any town);
One heaved the golden weight
Of dish and fruit to offer her:
"Come buy, come buy," was still their cry.
Laura stared but did not stir,
Longed but had no money:
The whisk-tailed merchant bade her taste
In tones as smooth as honey,
The cat-faced purr'd,
The rat-paced spoke a word
Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard;
One parrot-voiced and jolly
Cried "Pretty Goblin" still for "Pretty Polly";
One whistled like a bird.
But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste:
"Good folk, I have no coin;
To take were to purloin:
I have no copper in my purse,
I have no silver either,
And all my gold is on the furze
That shakes in windy weather
Above the rusty heather."
"You have much gold upon your head,"
They answered altogether:
"Buy from us with a golden curl."
She clipped a precious golden lock,
She dropped a tear more rare than pearl,
Then sucked their fruit globes fair or red:
Sweeter than honey from the rock,
Stronger than man-rejoicing wine,
Clearer than water flowed that juice;
She never tasted such before,
How should it cloy with length of use?
She sucked and sucked and sucked the more
Fruits which that unknown orchard bore,
She sucked until her lips were sore;
Then flung the emptied rinds away,
But gathered up one kernel stone,
And knew not was it night or day
As she turned home alone.
Lizzie met her at the gate
Full of wise upbraidings:
"Dear, you should not stay so late,
Twilight is not good for maidens;
Should not loiter in the glen
In the haunts of goblin men.
Do you not remember Jeanie,
How she met them in the moonlight,
Took their gifts both choice and many,
Ate their fruits and wore their flowers
Plucked from bowers
Where summer ripens at all hours?
But ever in the moonlight
She pined and pined away;
Sought them by night and day,
Found them no more, but dwindled and grew gray;
Then fell with the first snow,
While to this day no grass will grow
Where she lies low:
I planted daisies there a year ago
That never blow.
You should not loiter so."
"Nay hush," said Laura.
"Nay hush, my sister:
I ate and ate my fill,
Yet my mouth waters still;
To-morrow night I will
Buy more," and kissed her.
"Have done with sorrow;
I'll bring you plums to-morrow
Fresh on their mother twigs,
Cherries worth getting;
You cannot think what figs
My teeth have met in,
What melons, icy-cold
Piled on a dish of gold
Too huge for me to hold,
What peaches with a velvet nap,
Pellucid grapes without one seed:
Odorous indeed must be the mead
Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink,
With lilies at the brink,
And sugar-sweet their sap."

Golden head by golden head,
Like two pigeons in one nest
Folded in each other's wings,
They lay down, in their curtained bed:
Like two blossoms on one stem,
Like two flakes of new-fallen snow,
Like two wands of ivory
Tipped with gold for awful kings.
Moon and stars beamed in at them,
Wind sang to them lullaby,
Lumbering owls forbore to fly,
Not a bat flapped to and fro
Round their rest:
Cheek to cheek and breast to breast
Locked together in one nest.
Early in the morning
When the first cock crowed his warning,
Neat like bees, as sweet and busy,
Laura rose with Lizzie:
Fetched in honey, milked the cows,
Aired and set to rights the house,
Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat,
Cakes for dainty mouths to eat,
Next churned butter, whipped up cream,
Fed their poultry, sat and sewed;
Talked as modest maidens should
Lizzie with an open heart,
Laura in an absent dream,
One content, one sick in part;
One warbling for the mere bright day's delight,
One longing for the night.
At length slow evening came--
They went with pitchers to the reedy brook;
Lizzie most placid in her look,
Laura most like a leaping flame.
They drew the gurgling water from its deep
Lizzie plucked purple and rich golden flags,
Then turning homeward said: "The sunset flushes
Those furthest loftiest crags;
Come, Laura, not another maiden lags,
No wilful squirrel wags,
The beasts and birds are fast asleep."
But Laura loitered still among the rushes
And said the bank was steep.
And said the hour was early still,
The dew not fallen, the wind not chill:
Listening ever, but not catching
The customary cry,
"Come buy, come buy,"
With its iterated jingle
Of sugar-baited words:
Not for all her watching
Once discerning even one goblin
Racing, whisking, tumbling, hobbling;
Let alone the herds
That used to tramp along the glen,
In groups or single,
Of brisk fruit-merchant men.
p>Till Lizzie urged, "O Laura, come,
I hear the fruit-call, but I dare not look:
You should not loiter longer at this brook:
Come with me home.
The stars rise, the moon bends her arc,
Each glow-worm winks her spark,
Let us get home before the night grows dark;
For clouds may gather even
Though this is summer weather,
Put out the lights and drench us through;
Then if we lost our way what should we do?"
Laura turned cold as stone
To find her sister heard that cry alone,
That goblin cry,
"Come buy our fruits, come buy."
Must she then buy no more such dainty fruit?
Must she no more such succous pasture find,
Gone deaf and blind?
Her tree of life drooped from the root:
She said not one word in her heart's sore ache;
But peering thro' the dimness, naught discerning,
Trudged home, her pitcher dripping all the way;
So crept to bed, and lay
Silent 'til Lizzie slept;
Then sat up in a passionate yearning,
And gnashed her teeth for balked desire, and wept
As if her heart would break.
Day after day, night after night,
Laura kept watch in vain,
In sullen silence of exceeding pain.
She never caught again the goblin cry:
"Come buy, come buy,"
She never spied the goblin men
Hawking their fruits along the glen:
But when the noon waxed bright
Her hair grew thin and gray;
She dwindled, as the fair full moon doth turn
To swift decay, and burn
Her fire away.
One day remembering her kernel-stone
She set it by a wall that faced the south;
Dewed it with tears, hoped for a root,
Watched for a waxing shoot,
But there came none;
It never saw the sun,
It never felt the trickling moisture run:
While with sunk eyes and faded mouth
She dreamed of melons, as a traveller sees
False waves in desert drouth
With shade of leaf-crowned trees,
And burns the thirstier in the sandful breeze.
She no more swept the house,
Tended the fowls or cows,
Fetched honey, kneaded cakes of wheat,
Brought water from the brook:
But sat down listless in the chimney-nook
And would not eat.
Tender Lizzie could not bear
To watch her sister's cankerous care,
Yet not to share.
She night and morning
Caught the goblins' cry:
"Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy."
Beside the brook, along the glen
She heard the tramp of goblin men,
The voice and stir
Poor Laura could not hear;
Longed to buy fruit to comfort her,
But feared to pay too dear.
She thought of Jeanie in her grave,
Who should have been a bride;
But who for joys brides hope to have
Fell sick and died
In her gay prime,
In earliest winter-time,
With the first glazing rime,
With the first snow-fall of crisp winter-time.
Till Laura, dwindling,
Seemed knocking at Death's door:
Then Lizzie weighed no more
Better and worse,
But put a silver penny in her purse,
Kissed Laura, crossed the heath with clumps of furze
At twilight, halted by the brook,
And for the first time in her life
Began to listen and look.
Laughed every goblin
When they spied her peeping:
Came towards her hobbling,
Flying, running, leaping,
Puffing and blowing,
Chuckling, clapping, crowing,
Clucking and gobbling,
Mopping and mowing,
Full of airs and graces,
Pulling wry faces,
Demure grimaces,
Cat-like and rat-like,
Ratel and wombat-like,
Snail-paced in a hurry,
Parrot-voiced and whistler,
Helter-skelter, hurry-skurry,
Chattering like magpies,
Fluttering like pigeons,
Gliding like fishes, --
Hugged her and kissed her;
Squeezed and caressed her;
Stretched up their dishes,
Panniers and plates:
"Look at our apples
Russet and dun,
Bob at our cherries
Bite at our peaches,
Citrons and dates,
Grapes for the asking,
Pears red with basking
Out in the sun,
Plums on their twigs;
Pluck them and suck them,
Pomegranates, figs."
"Good folk," said Lizzie,
Mindful of Jeanie,
"Give me much and many"; --
Held out her apron,
Tossed them her penny.
"Nay, take a seat with us,
Honor and eat with us,"
They answered grinning;
"Our feast is but beginning.
Night yet is early,
Warm and dew-pearly,
Wakeful and starry:
Such fruits as these
No man can carry;
Half their bloom would fly,
Half their dew would dry,
Half their flavor would pass by.
Sit down and feast with us,
Be welcome guest with us,
Cheer you and rest with us."
"Thank you," said Lizzie; "but one waits
At home alone for me:
So, without further parleying,
If you will not sell me any
Of your fruits though much and many,
Give me back my silver penny
I tossed you for a fee."
They began to scratch their pates,
No longer wagging, purring,
But visibly demurring,
Grunting and snarling.
One called her proud,
Cross-grained, uncivil;
Their tones waxed loud,
Their looks were evil.
Lashing their tails
They trod and hustled her,
Elbowed and jostled her,
Clawed with their nails,
Barking, mewing, hissing, mocking,
Tore her gown and soiled her stocking,
Twitched her hair out by the roots,
Stamped upon her tender feet,
Held her hands and squeezed their fruits
Against her mouth to make her eat.
White and golden Lizzie stood,
Like a lily in a flood,
Like a rock of blue-veined stone
Lashed by tides obstreperously, --
Like a beacon left alone
In a hoary roaring sea,
Sending up a golden fire, --
Like a fruit-crowned orange-tree
White with blossoms honey-sweet
Sore beset by wasp and bee, --
Like a royal virgin town
Topped with gilded dome and spire
Close beleaguered by a fleet
Mad to tear her standard down.
One may lead a horse to water,
Twenty cannot make him drink.
Though the goblins cuffed and caught her,
Coaxed and fought her,
Bullied and besought her,
Scratched her, pinched her black as ink,
Kicked and knocked her,
Mauled and mocked her,
Lizzie uttered not a word;
Would not open lip from lip
Lest they should cram a mouthful in;
But laughed in heart to feel the drip
Of juice that syruped all her face,
And lodged in dimples of her chin,
And streaked her neck which quaked like curd.
At last the evil people,
Worn out by her resistance,
Flung back her penny, kicked their fruit
Along whichever road they took,
Not leaving root or stone or shoot.
Some writhed into the ground,
Some dived into the brook
With ring and ripple.
Some scudded on the gale without a sound,
Some vanished in the distance.
In a smart, ache, tingle,
Lizzie went her way;
Knew not was it night or day;
Sprang up the bank, tore through the furze,
Threaded copse and dingle,
And heard her penny jingle
Bouncing in her purse, --
Its bounce was music to her ear.
She ran and ran
As if she feared some goblin man
Dogged her with gibe or curse
Or something worse:
But not one goblin skurried after,
Nor was she pricked by fear;
The kind heart made her windy-paced
That urged her home quite out of breath with haste
And inward laughter.
She cried "Laura," up the garden,
"Did you miss me ?
Come and kiss me.
Never mind my bruises,
Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices
Squeezed from goblin fruits for you,
Goblin pulp and goblin dew.
Eat me, drink me, love me;
Laura, make much of me:
For your sake I have braved the glen
And had to do with goblin merchant men."
Laura started from her chair,
Flung her arms up in the air,
Clutched her hair:
"Lizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted
For my sake the fruit forbidden?
Must your light like mine be hidden,
Your young life like mine be wasted,
Undone in mine undoing,
And ruined in my ruin;
Thirsty, cankered, goblin-ridden?"
She clung about her sister,
Kissed and kissed and kissed her:
Tears once again
Refreshed her shrunken eyes,
Dropping like rain
After long sultry drouth;
Shaking with aguish fear, and pain,
She kissed and kissed her with a hungry mouth.
Her lips began to scorch,
That juice was wormwood to her tongue,
She loathed the feast:
Writhing as one possessed she leaped and sung,
Rent all her robe, and wrung
Her hands in lamentable haste,
And beat her breast.
Her locks streamed like the torch
Borne by a racer at full speed,
Or like the mane of horses in their flight,
Or like an eagle when she stems the light
Straight toward the sun,
Or like a caged thing freed,
Or like a flying flag when armies run.
Swift fire spread through her veins, knocked at her heart,
Met the fire smouldering there
And overbore its lesser flame,
She gorged on bitterness without a name:
Ah! fool, to choose such part
Of soul-consuming care!
Sense failed in the mortal strife:
Like the watch-tower of a town
Which an earthquake shatters down,
Like a lightning-stricken mast,
Like a wind-uprooted tree
Spun about,
Like a foam-topped water-spout
Cast down headlong in the sea,
She fell at last;
Pleasure past and anguish past,
Is it death or is it life ?
Life out of death.
That night long Lizzie watched by her,
Counted her pulse's flagging stir,
Felt for her breath,
Held water to her lips, and cooled her face
With tears and fanning leaves:
But when the first birds chirped about their eaves,
And early reapers plodded to the place
Of golden sheaves,
And dew-wet grass
Bowed in the morning winds so brisk to pass,
And new buds with new day
Opened of cup-like lilies on the stream,
Laura awoke as from a dream,
Laughed in the innocent old way,
Hugged Lizzie but not twice or thrice;
Her gleaming locks showed not one thread of gray,
Her breath was sweet as May,
And light danced in her eyes.
Days, weeks, months,years
Afterwards, when both were wives
With children of their own;
Their mother-hearts beset with fears,
Their lives bound up in tender lives;
Laura would call the little ones
And tell them of her early prime,
Those pleasant days long gone
Of not-returning time:
Would talk about the haunted glen,
The wicked, quaint fruit-merchant men,
Their fruits like honey to the throat,
But poison in the blood;
(Men sell not such in any town;)
Would tell them how her sister stood
In deadly peril to do her good,
And win the fiery antidote:
Then joining hands to little hands
Would bid them cling together,
"For there is no friend like a sister,
In calm or stormy weather,

I crave your mouth - pablo neruda

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.

Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.

Bread does not nourish me,

dawn disrupts me,

all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,

your hands the color of a savage harvest,

hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,

I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,

the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,

I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry,

sniffing the twilight, hunting for you,

for your hot heart, Like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

Lunar eclipse pisces/virgo axis 28 August 2007

Pisces/Virgo axis: sacrifice, service and enlightenment.

14 days later we experience the second Solar Eclipse of the year on September 11 at 19 Pisces just 12 days before the Autumnal Equinox at 2:52 am PDT on September 22. Both eclipses will shut some old ways of life down forever (as all eclipses do), leaving us space to embrace the new already waiting for us exactly mirroring what we've prepared for up to now. These will shine a light on closures, courage, and transmutation of energies into personality strengths in our process of "escaping from a narrow destiny," shown by whatever educated us since September 2006's Solar and Lunar Eclipses.

One major factor is a wide but still powerful Grand Mutable Cross between Mercury at 17 Virgo, Mars at 14 Gemini, Uranus at 18 Pisces, and Jupiter at 11 Sag. This will function more as a strong T-square throwing the void into 14, 17, and 18 Sag, which Jupiter will trigger as it moves through that span late September and early October 2007.

Vying for your attention on this Full Moon in Pisces is Sun (personal motivation), Mercury (mind), and the South Node (accrued knowledge) in Virgo (the healer/mentor) and on the other side Uranus (the awakener), Moon (intuition), and the North Node (knowledge seeking) in Pisces (the Bodhisattva). With Jupiter in philosophically-minded Sagittarius squaring Sun/Moon/North and South Nodes, I hope you are ready to step deeply into a celebration of the real meaning of commitment to the enlightenment of all sentient beings. No doubt about it; this will be a very spiritually demanding Full Moon.

So what does the August 28 2007 Lunar Eclipse hold for us? One major factor is a wide but still powerful Grand Mutable Cross between Mercury at 17 Virgo, Mars at 14 Gemini, Uranus at 18 Pisces, and Jupiter at 11 Sag. This will function more as a strong T-square throwing the void into 14, 17, and 18 Sag, which Jupiter will trigger as it moves through that span late September and early October 2007.

You can also expect major developments when the Moon, Sun, Mercury, Venus, and Mars cross over these degree spans in Virgo, Sag, and next Pisces. The void shows us symbols of the Great Pyramid and the Sphinx, people gathering at an outdoor Easter service, and children playing on the beach protected from the Sun. These imply our need to contact the Ageless Wisdom, our "spiritual ancestry," renew ourselves in relationships that help us "come out of darkness and despair," and value what protects us from too great a light or feelings.

Of note is that Mercury and Jupiter are the final dispositors of all the other planets, and they're in square, so expect splits from the past wherever the Mutable signs fall in your chart. Mercury is on a degree of "volcanic eruption," so besides many explosions to come, we will be offered the chance to "break up old complexes" and find our "will to wholeness." Things will erupt in a big way as a result of this, so be as creative and regenerative as you can while things, people, and whatever else whirls through the air around you.

The Lady of ShallotAlfred Lord Tennyson
Part I
On either side the river lieLong fields of barley and of rye,

That clothe the wold and meet the sky;

And thro' the field the road runs by

To many-tower'd Camelot;

And up and down the people go

,Gazing where the lilies blowRound an island there below,

The island of Shallot.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,

Little breezes dusk and shiver

Thro' the wave that runs for ever

By the island in the river

Flowing down to Camelot.

Four gray walls, and four gray towers,

Overlook a space of flowers,

And the silent isle imbowers

The Lady of Shallot.

By the margin, willow veil'd,

Slide the heavy barges trail'd

By slow horses; and unhail'd

The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd

Skimming down to Camelot:

But who hath seen her wave her hand?

Or at the casement seen her stand?

Or is she known in all the land,

The Lady of Shallot?

Only reapers, reaping early

In among the bearded barley,

Hear a song that echoes cheerly

From the river winding clearly,

Down to tower'd Camelot:

And by the moon the reaper weary,

Piling sheaves in uplands airy,

Listening, whispers " 'Tis the fairyLady of Shallot."

Part II

There she weaves by night and day

A magic web with colours gay.

She has heard a whisper say,

A curse is on her if she stay

To look down to Camelot.

She knows not what the curse may be,

And so she weaveth steadily,

And little other care hath she,

The Lady of Shallot.

And moving thro' a mirror clear

That hangs before her all the year,

Shadows of the world appear.

There she sees the highway near

Winding down to Camelot:

There the river eddy whirls,

And there the surly village-churls,

And the red cloaks of market girls,

Pass onward from Shallot.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,

An abbot on an ambling pad,

Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad,

Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad,

Goes by to tower'd Camelot;

And sometimes thro' the mirror blue

The knights come riding two and two:

She hath no loyal knight and true,

The Lady of Shallot.

But in her web she still delights

To weave the mirror's magic sights,

For often thro' the silent nights

A funeral, with plumes and lights

And music, went to Camelot:

Or when the moon was overhead,

Came two young lovers lately wed:"

I am half sick of shadows,"

saidThe Lady of Shallot.

Part III

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,

He rode between the barley-sheaves,

The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,

And flamed upon the brazen greaves

Of bold Sir Lancelot.

A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd

To a lady in his shield,

That sparkled on the yellow field,

Beside remote Shallot.

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,

Like to some branch of stars

we seeHung in the golden Galaxy.

The bridle bells rang merrily

As he rode down to Camelot:

And from his blazon'd baldric slung

A mighty silver bugle hung,

And as he rode his armour rung,

Beside remote Shallot.

All in the blue unclouded weather

Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,

The helmet and the helmet-feather

Burn'd like one burning flame together,

As he rode down to Camelot.

As often thro' the purple night,

Below the starry clusters bright,

Some bearded meteor, trailing light,

Moves over still Shallot.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;

On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;

From underneath his helmet flow'd

His coal-black curls as on he rode,

As he rode down to Camelot.

From the bank and from the river

He flash'd into the crystal mirror,

"Tirra lirra," by the riverSang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom,

She made three paces thro' the room,

She saw the water-lily bloom,

She saw the helmet and the plume,

She look'd down to Camelot.

Out flew the web and floated wide;

The mirror crack'd from side to side;

"The curse is come upon me," criedThe Lady of Shallot.

Part IV

In the stormy east-wind straining,

The pale yellow woods were waning,

The broad stream in his banks complaining,

Heavily the low sky raining

Over tower'd Camelot;

Down she came and found a boat

Beneath a willow left afloat,

And round about the prow she wrote

The Lady of Shallot.

And down the river's dim expanse

Like some bold seer in a trance,

Seeing all his own mischance--

With a glassy countenance

Did she look to Camelot.

nd at the closing of the day

She loosed the chain, and down she lay;

The broad stream bore her far away,

The Lady of Shallot.

Lying, robed in snowy white

That loosely flew to left and right--

The leaves upon her falling light--

Thro' the noises of the night

She floated down to Camelot:

And as the boat-head wound along

The willowy hills and fields among,

They heard her singing her last song,

The Lady of Shallot.

Heard a carol, mournful, holy,

Chanted loudly,

chanted lowly,

Till her blood was frozen slowly,

And her eyes were darken'd wholly,

Turn'd to tower'd Camelot.

or ere she reach'd upon the tide

he first house by the water-side,

Singing in her song she died,

The Lady of Shallot.

under tower and balcony,

By garden-wall and gallery,

A gleaming shape she floated by,

Dead-pale between the houses high,

Silent into Camelot.

Out upon the wharfs they came,

Knight and burgher, lord and dame,

nd round the prow they read her name,

The Lady of Shallot.

Who is this? and what is here?

And in the lighted palace near

Died the sound of royal cheer;

And they cross'd themselves for fear,

All the knights at Camelot:

But Lancelot mused a little space;

He said, "She has a lovely face;

God in his mercy lend her grace,The Lady of Shallot."

The Lady of ShallotAlfred Lord Tennyson

The Bridal chamber sacrament



When you make the two one, and when you make the inner as the outer and the outer as the inner and the above as the below, and when you make the male and the female into a single one, so that the male will not be male and the female not be female . . . then shall you enter the kingdom.st valentinus-gnosticism




However, it is not sufficient to be unified in one's nature - so Valentinus implied - one must also be redeemed from the corrupting and confusing thralldom of the false existential world wherein one lives. This liberation from the clutches of the world of defect was accomplished by the sacrament of redemption (apolytrosis) sometimes also called restoration (apokatastasis).
e sacrament of redemptionI am established, I am redeemed and I redeem my soul from this aeon and from all that comes from it, in the name of IAO, who redeemed his soul unto the redemption in Christ, the living one. (Irenaeus, Adv. Haer. I. 21,5)


May the Grace beyond time and space that was before the beginnings of the Universe fill our inner man and increase within us the semblance of itself as the grain of mustard seed.

valentinus


The psychological basis upon which the bridal chamber ritual is founded is fairly easily understood. The Gnosis considers the human being as divided and fragmented within itself. The divisions have numerous aspects: We are involved in what modern psychology would call an Ego-Self dichotomy, in an Anima-Animus dichotomy, in a body-mind dichotomy, in a subjective-objective dichotomy, and many others. All of these divisions require mending, or healing. Even as the Pleroma, or divine plenum, is characterized by wholeness, so the human being must once again become whole and thereby acquire the qualifications to reenter the Pleroma.



THE CHYMICAL MARRIAGE

The coniunctio (union/conjunction) of Sol and Luna is often called the chymical
wedding

-The union of Sol and Luna is often compared to the "marriage" of Christ and the
Church


-The coniunctio is one of alchemical fundamentals: the union of body and spirit
(Jung’s and Pauli’s psycho-physical monism theory)


-The product of coniunctio is always Mercurius - the epitome of balanced
opposites (The Sun and the Moon are said to supply seeds to plant in earth, from
which Mercurius grows)


-The relationship between the Sun, the Moon, and Mercurius is referred to as
coniunctio triptativa


-Sol and Luna most frequently symbolize consciousness and the unconscious,
respectively


-Fiery Sol, the Sun, whose corresponding metal is gold (or sulphur), is the
source of warmth and light (gold was often called "the sun in the earth")


-Watery Luna, the Moon, whose corresponding metal is silver (or salt), is dark
and cold (water and spirit are often identical; water also holds death-rebirth
symbolism)


-Sol and Luna are equivalent to the Yang (positive, male, assertive) and the Yin
(negative, female, receptive) in Taoist philosophy, whose reciprocity is the
reason for all events of the universe


-Sometimes the coniunctio is omnipresent in world mythologies: as fiery gold, Sol is the result of the alchemical transmutation, and as watery Prima Materia, the spiritus aqua, Luna is its
origin. This makes Luna the mother of Sol


-Luna and Sol often appear as White Queen and Red King (note these colors’
corresponding stages of transmutation; the symbol of this relationship is a
rose). This relates to their symbolism as the anima, the female principle within
a male personality, and the animus, the male principle within a female
personality, respectively. (Jung called this aspect a "medium between the ego
and the unconscious). This is reminiscent of Rubedo, in which Luna becomes a
man, whereas Sol becomes a woman. According to Jung, both aspects are
crucial to their corresponding Self, and their realization is achieved through
relationships with people of the opposite sex. The alchemical concepts of Sol
and Luna seem to be the unconscious projections of the animus and the anima


- Luna is often called Anima Mundi, the World Soul which surrounds cosmos,
half-human half-animal Melusina, or even Lilith. (see dictionary) As Melusina,
she is similar to Virgo, who is often associated with the Mercurial Serpent. As
the Moon, Melusina is also compared to Venus or Aphrodite, not unlike
Mercurius.



Similarly, Melusina as Lillith, is the first wife of Adam in Paradise,
whereas Mercurius is often associated with Adam before the Fall. It is only
natural to represent Mercurius as the anima, which alchemists often did.




Alchemy - ancient esoteric practice, generally thought of as ‘the mother of
chemistry and medicine’ and based on the doctrine of transmuting base metals
into gold. Its new interpretation reveals knowledge of great psychological and
magical significance.


Anima - the feminine principle in men, in Jungian psychology.


Anima Mundi - the "world soul". She is the animating principle that is said to
inhabit all things. Anima Mundi is also said to exist in blood, which is an early
symbol for the soul.


Animus - the masculine principle in women, in Jungian psychology.
(The) Axiom of Maria Prophetissa - "One becomes Two, Two becomes Three,
and out of the Third comes the One as the Fourth". This enigmatic statement,
emphasizing the antagonism between numbers three and four, has been used in
Alchemy for almost two thousand years.


Coagulatio - the third, "equilibrium" stage between Nigredo and Solutio.
Coagulatio consists of eight sub-stages Separatio, Fermentatio, Illuminatio,
Nutrimentum, Fixatio, Multiplicatio, Revificatio, and Sublimatio. Coagulatio is
associated with the independence of Sol and Luna, and its main color is
yellow-green.


Coniunctio, also referred to as the chymical wedding - union of Sol and Luna
which produces Mercurius.


Corpus Glorificatum - the final immutable Philosopher’s Stone with red
transparent tincture.


Corpus Mundum - the purified body, associated with the success of freeing the
ego-consciousness from the contamination with the unconscious, reminiscent
of Sol’s independence.


Corpus Subtile - the subtle body, associated with the diamond body in Eastern
mysticism.


Duplex, Merurius - most frequently-found description of Mercurius, as the
embodiment of the union of striking opposites.


(The) Emerald Tablet - famous alchemical treatise, associated with Hermes
Trismegistus. The Emerald Tablet outlines some of the basic alchemical beliefs.
Filius Macrocosmi, the Cosmic Son - one of the manifestations of the
Philosopher’s Stone and Mercurius.


Filius Microcosmi, the Son of Man - Christ, as the counterpart of the
Philosopher’s Stone and Mercurius.


Formal Quaternity - associated with number seven. It is the product of the
synthesis of Sol, Luna, the Elements, and specially selected Fire, according to
Robert Fludd.


(The) Four Elements - the four basic constituents of all matter in various
philosophical theories.


Fourteen Principles of Hermetic Wisdom - health, humility, holiness, chastity,
virtue, victory, faith, hope, charity, goodness, patience, temperance, a spiritual
discipline, understanding, obedience. These principles, however, do not seem
to be omnipresent.


Greater Work - the last two phases of alchemical transmutation, embodied in
the stages of Coagulatio and Rubedo.


Hermes Trismegistus - "three-times as powerful" or "thrice-born" Hermes. The
famous alchemical Emerald Tablet is attributed to him.


Lady Alchymia, also known as the Anima Mercurii - the guiding presence in
Alchemy.


Lesser Work - the first half of alchemical transmutation, embodied in the phases
of Nigredo and Solutio.


Luna - the Moon in coniunctio; she has corresponding dark and watery
characteristics, and her metal is silver or quicksilver. She is associated with the
unconsious and the Anima in Jungian psychology.


Magnum Opus, "the Great Work" - another name for the alchemical processes.


Mandala - a combination of triangles, squares and circles in regular pattern, as
a symbol of totality in world cultures.


Melusina - associated with Luna, Anima Mundi, Virgo, Lillith, and Morgana. As
Anima Mundi, she animates all things. Melusina resembles a mermaid and has
a fish-like or snake-like tail.


Mercurius - hermaphroditic, bisexual, androgenous product of Coniunctio.
Mercurius is the being at all levels simultaneously, an omnipresent embodiment
of all existent opposites.


Nigredo, also known as Mortificatio - the first stage of alchemical
transmutation, with the motto "black blacker than black". Nigredo is the
corruption that must take place before growth, the chaos that gives birth to
cosmos. The Old King’s death and Sol’s and Luna’s first encounter also take
place in Nigredo.


(The) Old King - the old state of consciousness. The Old King must die in Nigredo
for alchemical transmutation to begin.


Peacock Tail - emergence of all colors of the rainbow, which accompanies the
production of the White Stone and is reminiscent of dispersion in Optics.


(The) Philosopher’s Stone, also referred to as the Lapis Philosophorum - the
"catalyst" for the gold-production in alchemical transmutations. Often, the
Philosopher’s Stone is more important than the alchemical gold. It is extracted
from the Prima Materia, and in its final immutable and perfect stage, it can
grant magical powers to the owner.


(The) Philosophical Egg - a common symbol for the Vessel. The Philosophical
Egg is synonymous with the Uroboros, the Mercurial Serpent, as well as water,
because it "surrounds everything within it and has in itself all that is necessary"
(which is also one of the attributes of God).


(The) Philosophical Tree, Arbor Philosophica - a common alchemical symbol,
associated with the seven planets known at the time. These planets correspond
to the seven metals - gold, sometimes substituted by sulphur, silver, copper,
iron, mercury, lead, and tin, which were said to "grow" on the Philosophical
Tree. The fruit of this Tree is the eternal and incorruptible Mercurial
manifestation as the Philosopher’s Stone.


Prima Materia, also known as the basic moisture, the seed of all things, the root
of itself, and the Massa Confusa, among others. The Prima Materia is the
primordial chaos from which all things originate; it is needed for the extraction
of the Philosopher’s Stone. Prima Materia is said to be filthy and divine
simultaneously.


Quadratura Circuli, "squaring the circle" - one of the methods of obtaining
Philosopher’s Stone, which involves "making a circle out of a man and a
woman, deriving form it a square, and from a square a triangle, then making a
circle".


Quaternus, Mercurius - Mercurial manifestation as the synthesized quaternity
of the Philosopher’s Stone.


Quinta Essentia, the quintessence, or the "light of nature", according to
Paracelsus - sometimes considered to be the "fifth element", as seen in
Leonardo’s Microcosmic Man pentagram. Mercurius is often described as the
quintessence, which holds the four elements together. In this interpretation, the
Quinta Essentia is depicted in the middle of the Four Elements.


(The) Red King - Sol’s frequently used persona.


Rubedo - final (fourth) alchemical stage, associated with red-purple. In this
stage the Philosopher’s Stone gains powers for infinite multiplication. Rubedo’s
two main sub-stages are Multiplicatio and Projectio.


Senex, Mercurius - initial Saturnine substance, associated with the Christian
Devil.


Sol - the Sun in coniunctio; he has corresponding fiery characteristics, and his
metal is gold or sulphur. He is associated with consciousness and the Animus in
Jungian psychology.


Solutio, also referred to as Albedo or Baptisma - the second stage of alchemical
transmutation which embodies "whiteness beyond blackness". Solutio is the
opposite of Nigredo, it has a spiritual, celestial quality, and is associated with
the first production of the White Stone.


Soror (or frater) Mysterium - a companion in the work of the alchemist.


Tetraktys - a fourfold triangle, adding up to ten. Tetraktys can be derived from
the Axiom of Maria Prophetissa because it "begins with unity and ends with
quaternity"; it’s been considered sacred from the times of the Pythagoreans.


Trinus, Mercurius - Mercurial manifestation as the counterpart of the Triune
Christian godhead.


Uroboros - the tail-eating serpent, the symbol for the One and the All, is most
often associated with Mercurius and is present in Coagulatio stage of
alchemical transmutation. Uroboros devours and gives birth to itself.


(The) Vessel - the "uterus" of spiritual renewal and rebirth. According to Maria
Prophetissa, no alchemical transmutation can take place without the
knowledge of the vessel, while in Jung’s view, the Vessel is the person
herself/himself.


(The) White Queen - Luna’s frequently used persona.


Yantra - a form of a mandala, used in Eastern meditation. A yantra consists of
nine interlinking triangles, pointing upward and downward, and representing
the union of Shiva and Shakti, spiritual and material

Gnosticism

Definition of gnosticism

The Gnostics posited an original spiritual unity that came to be split into a plurality. As a result of the precosmic division the universe was created.

This was done by a leader possessing inferior spiritual powers and who often resembled the Old Testament Jehovah. A female emanation of God was involved in the cosmic creation (albeit in a much more positive role than the leader). Sophia or wisdom In the cosmos, space and time have a malevolent character and may be personified as demonic beings separating man from God.

For man, the universe is a vast prison. He is enslaved both by the physical laws of nature and by such moral laws as the Mosaic code.

Mankind may be personified as Adam, who lies in the deep sleep of ignorance, his powers of spiritual self-awareness stupefied by materiality.

Within each natural man is an "inner man," a fallen spark of the divine substance. Since this exists in each man, we have the possibility of awakening from our stupefaction.
What effects the awakening is not obedience, faith, or good works, but knowledge.

Before the awakening, men undergo troubled dreams. Man does not attain the knowledge that awakens him from these dreams by cognition but through revelatory experience, and this knowledge is not information but a modification of the sensate being.

The awakening (i.e., the salvation) of any individual is a cosmic event. Since the effort is to restore the wholeness and unity of the Godhead, active rebellion against the moral law of the Old Testament is enjoined upon every man.

Valentinus or St.Valentine was a gnostic as well who learned from Theudas who in turn was a disciple of Saint Paul

The Valentinians claimed that the secret teachings are meaningful only to those who are spiritually mature. If a person was not ready to receive them, they seem like nonsense "because their value can be judged only on a spiritual basis"

The often-debated cosmogony of Valentinus might be most profitably understood as being based on a single existential recognition, which might be summarized thus: Something is wrong. Somewhere, somehow, the fabric of being at the existential level of human functioning has lost its integrity. We live in a system which is lacking in essential integrity, and thus is defective. So-called orthodox Christians as well as Jews recognize that there is a certain "wrongness" in human existence, but they account for it chiefly in terms of the effects of human sin, original or other.

Jews and Christians hold that whatever is wrong with the world and human existence is the result of human disobedience to the creator. This means, that all evil, discomfort, and terror in our lives and in history are somehow our fault. A great cosmic statement of "Mea Culpa" runs through this world view, which permanently affixes to the human psyche an element of titanic guilt.

Valentinus, in opposition to this guilt-ridden view of life, held that the above-noted defect is not the result of our wrongdoing, but is inherent in the system of existence wherein we live and move and have our being. Moreover, by postulating that creation itself is lacking in integrity, Valentinus not only removes the weight of personal and collective guilt from our shoulders but also points to the redemptive potential resident in the soul of every human being.

Perfect redemption is the cognition itself of the ineffable greatness: for since through ignorance came about the defect . . . the whole system springing from ignorance is dissolved in Gnosis. Therefore Gnosis is the redemption of the inner man; and it is not of the body, for the body is corruptible; nor is it psychical, for even the soul is a product of the defect and it is a lodging to the spirit: pneumatic (spiritual) therefore also must be redemption itself. Through Gnosis, then, is redeemed the inner, spiritual man: so that to us suffices the Gnosis of universal being: and this is the true redemption.

the sibyl

she lives in a dank cave a hermit alone

a sibyl she is, and her mother the moon

stalagmites bonewhite drips overhead

if one falls on her head she'd be dead
she scries for the truth in indigo depths

visions forms in the water unbidden

she has to be vigilant or they stay hidden
stars are bound to her forehead

her lonely soul fed by messages from the dead

and a bed made of sharp thorns and dread
her bread dipped in the gall of foreknowledge

impotent to avert the catastrophes

that rises and beckons with skeletal fingers
she sees long dead armies marching

mouths agape in soundless screams of warning

the swift winds of pestilence and plague

that death sends to harvest untold innocents

to his lonely harsh breast in dark hades
and the last flickering of the flame of reason

as it slowly goes out in a world beset with demons

Written by Sybille

*The word sibyl comes (via Latin) from the Greek word sibylla, meaning prophetess

Orpheus and Eurydice

Orpheus and Eurydice in Greek Mythology

Orpheus was the son of Apollo and the Muse Calliope. He was presented by his father with a Lyre and taught to play upon it, which he did to such perfection that nothing could withstand the charm of his music. Not only his fellow-mortals but wild beasts were softened by his strains, and gathering round him laid by their fierceness, and stood entranced with his lay. Nay, the very trees and rocks were sensible to the charm. The former crowded round him and the latter relaxed somewhat of their hardness, softened by his notes.

Hymen had been called to bless with his presence the nuptials of Orpheus with Eurydice; but though he attended, he brought no happy omens with him. His very torch smoked and brought tears into their eyes. In coincidence with such prognostics, Eurydice, shortly after her marriage, while wandering with the nymphs, her companions, was seen by the shepherd Aristaeus, who was struck with her beauty and made advances to her. She fled, and in flying trod upon a snake in the grass, was bitten in the foot, and died.

Orpheus sang his grief to all who breathed the upper air, both gods and men, and finding it all unavailing resolved to seek his wife in the regions of the dead. He descended by a cave situated on the side of the promontory of Taenarus and arrived at the Stygian realm. He passed through crowds of ghosts and presented himself before the throne of Hades and Persephone. Accompanying the words with the lyre, he sung, "O deities of the underworld, to whom all we who live must come, hear my words, for they are true. I come not to spy out the secrets of Tartarus, not to try my strength against the three-headed dog with snaky hair that guards the entrance [Cerberus].

I come to seek my wife, whose opening years the poisonous viper's fang has brought to an untimely end. Love [Eros] has led me here, Love, a god all powerful with us who dwell on the earth, and, if old traditions say true, not less so here. I implore you by these abodes full of terror, these realms of silence and uncreated things, unite again the thread of Eurydice's life. We all are destined to you, and sooner or later must pass to your domain. She too, when she shall have filled her term of life, will rightly be yours. But till then grant her to me, I beseech you. If you deny me I cannot return alone; you shall triumph in the death of us both."

As he sang these tender strains, the very ghosts shed tears. Tantalus, in spite of his thirst, stopped for a moment his efforts for water, Ixion's wheel stood still, the vulture ceased to tear the giant's [Prometheus] liver, the daughters of Danaus rested from their task of drawing water in a sieve, and Sisyphus sat on his rock to listen. Then for the first time, it is said, the cheeks of the Furies were wet with tears. Persephone could not resist, and Hades himself gave way.

Eurydice was called. She came from among the new-arrived ghosts, limping with her wounded foot. Orpheus was permitted to take her away with him on one condition, that he should not turn around to look at her till they should have reached the upper air. Under this condition they proceeded on their way, he leading, she following, through passages dark and steep, in total silence, till they had nearly reached the outlet into the cheerful upper world, when Orpheus, in a moment of forgetfulness, to assure himself that she was still following, cast a glance behind him, when instantly she was borne away. Stretching out their arms to embrace each other, they grasped only the air! Dying now a second time, she yet cannot reproach her husband, for how can she blame his impatience to behold her? "Farewell," she said, "a last farewell," - and was hurried away, so fast that the sound hardly reached his ears.

Orpheus endeavored to follow her, and besought permission to return and try once more for her release; but the stern ferryman repulsed him and refused passage. Seven days he lingered about the brink, without food or sleep; then bitterly accusing of cruelty the powers of Erebus, he sang his complaints to the rocks and mountains, melting the hearts of tigers and moving the oaks from their stations. He held himself aloof from womankind, dwelling constantly on the recollection of his sad mischance. The Thracian maidens tried their best to captivate him, but he repulsed their advances.

They bore with him as long as they could; but finding him insensible one day, excited by the rites of Dionysos, one of them exclaimed, "See yonder our despiser!" and threw at him her javelin. The weapon, as soon as it came within the sound of his lyre, fell harmless at his feet. So did also the stones that they threw at him. But the women raised a scream and drowned the voice of the music, and then the missiles reached him and soon were stained with blood. The maniacs tore him limb from limb, and threw his head and his lyre into the river Hebrus, down which they floated, murmuring sad music, to which the shores responded a plaintive symphony. The Muses gathered up the fragments of his body and buried them at Libethra, where the nightingale is said to sing over his grave more sweetly than in any other part of Greece. His lyre was placed by Zeus among the stars. His shade passed a second time to Tartarus, where he sought out his Eurydice and embraced her with eager arms. They roam the happy fields together now, sometimes he leading, sometimes she; and Orpheus gazes as much as he will upon her, no longer incurring a penalty for a thoughtless glance.

To the distant Beloved

TO THE DISTANT ONE
by: Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

AND have I lost thee evermore,

Hast thou, oh, fair one, from me flown?

Still in mine ear sounds, as of yore,

Thine every word, thine every tone.

As when at morn the wanderer's eye

Attempts to pierce the air in vain,

When, hidden in the azure sky,

The lark high o'er him chants his strain:

So do I cast my troubled gaze

Through bush, through forest, o'er the lea;

Thou art invoked by all my lays;

Oh, come then, loved one, back to me!

Indigo

it was a day like any other day,
I didnt know the fates were out to play
our eyes met and i remembered
what the water of lethe made me forget
my spirit leapt up ecstatically
a timeless moment of epiphany
and danced with yours somewhere indigo blue
amongst stars so bright and true
the dried rose i kept pressed..
revived again through the alchemy of your touch
the raised scar of your name written on my heart
throbbed in primal rememberance
of many lifetimes before when we loved and lost
the first time our eyes met in long dead eden
and we knew then ..we had been ONE for aeons

Written by sybille

The Extasie - John Donne

WHERE, like a pillow on a bed,

A Pregnant banke swel'd up, to rest

The violets reclining head,

Sat we two, one anothers best.

Our hands were firmely cimented

With a fast balme, which thence did spring,

Our EYE-BEAMS TWISTED, AND DID THRED

OUR EYES UPON ONE DOUBLE STRING

So to'entergraft our hands, as yet

Was all the meanes to make us one,

And pictures in our eyes to get

Was all our propagation.

As 'twixt two equall Armies, Fate

Suspends uncertaine victorie,

OUR SOULS,

(WHICH TO ADVANCE THEIR STATE WERE GONE OUT,)

hung 'twixt her, and mee.

And whil'st our soules negotiate there,

Wee like sepulchrall statues lay;

All day, the same our postures were,

AND WE SAID NOTHING, ALL THE DAY

IF ANY, SO BY LOVE REFINE'D

THAT HE SOULES LANGUAGE UNDERSTOOD

AND BY GOOD LOVE WERE GROWEN ALL MINDE,

Within convenient distance stood,

He (though he knew not which soule spake,

Because both meant, both spake the same)

Might thence a new concoction take,

And part farre purer then he came.

This Extasie doth unperplex

(We said) and tell us what we love,

WE SEE BY THIS, IT WAS NOT SEXE,

Wee see, we saw not what did move:

But as all severall soules containe

Mixture of things, they know not what,

Love, these mixt soules, doth mixe againe,

And makes both one, each this and that.

A single violet transplant,

The strength, the colour, and the size,

(All which before was poore, and scant,)

Redoubles still, and multiplies.

When love, with one another so

Interinanimates two soules,

That abler soule, which thence doth flow,

Defects of lonelinesse controules.

WEE THEN WHO ARE THIS NEW SOULE, know,

Of what we are compos'd, and made,

For, th'Atomies of which we grow,

Are soules, whom no change can invade.

But O alas, so long, so farre

OUR BODIES WHY DO WEE FOREBEARE?

THEY ARE OURS, THOU THEY ARE NOT WEE,

Wee are The intelligences, they the spheare.

We owe them thankes, because they thus,

Did us, to us, at first convay,

Yeelded their forces, sense, to us,

Nor are drosse to us, but allay.

On man heavens influence workes not so,

But that it first imprints the ayre,

Soe soule into the soule may flow,

Though it to body first repaire.

As our blood labours to beget

Spirits, as like soules as it can,

Because such fingers need to knit

That subtile knot, which makes us man:

So must pure lovers soules descend

T'affections, and to faculties,

Which sense may reach and apprehend,

Else a great Prince in prison lies.

To'our bodies turne wee then, that so

Weake men on love reveal'd may looke;

Loves mysteries in soules doe grow,

But yet the body is his booke.

And if some lover, such as wee,

Have heard this dialogue of one,

Let him still marke us, he shall see

Small change, when we'are to bodies gone.

Farewell to the Court

Like truthless dreams, so are my joys expir'd,

And past return are all my dandled days;

My love misled, and fancy quite retir'd

Of all which pass'd the sorrow only stays.

My lost delights, now clean from sight of land,

Have left me all alone in unknown ways;

My mind to woe, my life in fortune's hand

Of all which pass'd the sorrow only stays.

As in a country strange, without companion,

I only wail the wrong of death's delays,

Whose sweet spring spent,

whose summer well-nigh done

Of all which pass'd only the sorrow stays.

Whom care forewarns, ere age and winter cold,

To haste me hence to find my fortune's fold.

Sir Walter Raleigh

The Happy Prince

The Happy Prince

Oscar Wilde
HIGH above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt.
He was very much admired indeed. ‘He is as beautiful as a weathercock,’ remarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic tastes; ‘only not quite so useful,’ he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not.
‘Why can’t you be like the Happy Prince?’ asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon. ‘The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything.’
‘I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy,’ muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.
‘He looks just like an angel,’ said the Charity Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks, and their clean white pinafores.
‘How do you know?’ said the Mathematical Master, ‘you have never seen one.’
‘Ah! but we have, in our dreams,’ answered the children; and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not approve of children dreaming.
One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he was in love with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early in the spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.
‘Shall I love you?’ said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point at once, and the Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples. This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer.
‘It is a ridiculous attachment,’ twittered the other Swallows, ‘she has no money, and far too many relations;’ and indeed the river was quite full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn came, they all flew away.
After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady-love. ‘She has no conversation,’ he said, ‘and I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind.’ And certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtsies. ‘I admit that she is domestic,’ he continued, ‘but I love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should love travelling also.’
‘Will you come away with me?’ he said finally to her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home.
‘You have been trifling with me,’ he cried, ‘I am off to the Pyramids. Good-bye!’ and he flew away.
All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city. ‘Where shall I put up?’ he said; ‘I hope the town has made preparations.’
Then he saw the statue on the tall column. ‘I will put up there,’ he cried; ‘it is a fine position with plenty of fresh air.’ So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.
‘I have a golden bedroom,’ he said softly to himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him. ‘What a curious thing!’ he cried, ‘there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful. The Reed used to like the rain, but that was merely her selfishness.’
Then another drop fell.
‘What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?’ he said; ‘I must look for a good chimney-pot,’ and he determined to fly away.
But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and saw - Ah! what did he see?
The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.
‘Who are you?’ he said.
‘I am the Happy Prince.’
‘Why are you weeping then?’ asked the Swallow; ‘you have quite drenched me.’
‘When I was alive and had a human heart,’ answered the statue, ‘I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the palace of Sans-Souci, where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall. Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot choose but weep.’
‘What, is he not solid gold?’ said the Swallow to himself. He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud.
‘Far away,’ continued the statue in a low musical voice, ‘far away in a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion-flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen’s maids-of-honour to wear at the next Court-ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move.’
‘I am waited for in Egypt,’ said the Swallow. ‘My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus-flowers. Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered leaves.’
‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad.’
‘I don’t think I like boys,’ answered the Swallow. ‘Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller’s sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family famous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of disrespect.’
But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry. ‘It is very cold here,’ he said; ‘but I will stay with you for one night, and be your messenger.’
‘Thank you, little Swallow,’ said the Prince.
So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince’s sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.
He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing. A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover. ‘How wonderful the stars are,’ he said to her, and how wonderful is the power of love!’
‘I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball,’ she answered; ‘I have ordered passion-flowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy.’
He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of the ships. He passed over the Ghetto, and saw the old jews bargaining with each other, and weighing out money in copper scales. At last he came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman’s thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy’s forehead with his wings. ‘How cool I feel,’ said the boy, ‘I must be getting better;’ and he sank into a delicious slumber.
Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had done. ‘It is curious,’ he remarked, ‘but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold.’
‘That is because you have done a good action,’ said the Prince. And the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking always made him sleepy.
When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. ‘What a remarkable phenomenon,’ said the Professor of Ornithology as he was passing over the bridge. ‘A swallow in winter!’ And he wrote a long letter about it to the local newspaper. Every one quoted it, it was full of so many words that they could not understand.
‘To-night I go to Egypt,’ said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect. He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each other, ‘What a distinguished stranger!’ so he enjoyed himself very much.
When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. ‘Have you any commissions for Egypt?’ he cried; ‘I am just starting.’
‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘will you not stay with me one night longer?’
‘I am waited for in Egypt,’ answered the Swallow. ‘To-morrow my friends will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when the morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent. At noon the yellow lions come down to the water’s edge to drink. They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.’
‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the prince, ‘far away across the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.’
‘I will wait with you one night longer,’ said the Swallow, who really had a good heart. ‘Shall I take him another ruby?’
‘Alas! I have no ruby now,’ said the Prince; ‘my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play.’
‘Dear Prince,’ said the Swallow, ‘I cannot do that;’ and he began to weep.
‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘do as I command you.’
So the Swallow plucked out the Prince’s eye, and flew away to the student’s garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird’s wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets.
‘I am beginning to be appreciated,’ he cried; ‘this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play,’ and he looked quite happy.
The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour. He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes. ‘Heave a-hoy!’ they shouted as each chest came up. ‘I am going to Egypt!’ cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.
‘I am come to bid you good-bye,’ he cried.
‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘will you not stay with me one night longer?’
‘It is winter,’ answered the Swallow, ‘and the chill snow will soon be here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. My companions are building a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching them, and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea.’
‘In the square below,’ said the Happy Prince, ‘there stands a little match-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not beat her.’
‘I will stay with you one night longer,’ said the Swallow, ‘but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then.’
‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘do as I command you.’
So he plucked out the Prince’s other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. ‘What a lovely bit of glass,’ cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing.
Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. ‘You are blind now,’ he said, ‘so I will stay with you always.’
‘No, little Swallow,’ said the poor Prince, ‘you must go away to Egypt.’
‘I will stay with you always,’ said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince’s feet.
All the next day he sat on the Prince’s shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold fish in their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.
‘Dear little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘you tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there.’
So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another’s arms to try and keep themselves warm. ‘How hungry we are!’ they said. ‘You must not lie here,’ shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.
Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.
‘I am covered with fine gold,’ said the Prince, ‘you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold can make them happy.’
Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the children’s faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street. ‘We have bread now!’ they cried.
Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.
The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the baker’s door where the baker was not looking, and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.
But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to fly up to the Prince’s shoulder once more. ‘Good-bye, dear Prince!’ he murmured, ‘will you let me kiss your hand?’
‘I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for I love you.’
‘It is not to Egypt that I am going,’ said the Swallow. ‘I am going to the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?’
And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet.
At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost. Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he looked up at the statue: ‘Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!’ he said.
‘How shabby indeed!’ cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed with the Mayor, and they went up to look at it.
‘The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer,’ said the Mayor; ‘in fact, he is little better than a beggar!’
‘Little better than a beggar’ said the Town councillors.
‘And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!’ continued the Mayor. ‘We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die here.’ And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.
So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. ‘As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful,’ said the Art Professor at the University.
Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. ‘We must have another statue, of course,’ he said, ‘and it shall be a statue of myself.’
‘Of myself,’ said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled. When I last heard of them they were quarrelling still.
‘What a strange thing!’ said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry. ‘This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it away.’ So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also lying.
‘Bring me the two most precious things in the city,’ said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.
‘You have rightly chosen,’ said God, ‘for in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me.’

A poem from my dark side

THE DARK LOVER

Night and day i search for him, day and night

I walk the streets asking beggars that i meet

"have you see him? have you seen my lover?

his face as pale as snow his eyes the abyss

painters paint him with a scythe and bony finger

not knowing he is a lightbringer

What is this place but the pit of hell?

under our feet where worms feast

on a dinner of our newly dead meat

is the soil where things grow best on a diet of corrupting flesh

around us deceptive beauty of nature forsooth

but as was said "red in claw and tooth"

the ocean with lacy edges

hiding the bones of many poor wretches

above every maternity ward the sign should be placed:

"abandon hope all ye who enter here"

Some beautiful poems I adore

Limited love asks for possession of the beloved, but the unlimited asks only for itself. Love that comes between the naiveté and awakening of youth satisfies itself with possessing, and grows with embraces. But Love which is born in the firmament's lap and has descended with the night's secrets is not contented with anything but Eternity and immortality; it does not stand reverently before anything except deity.

kahlil gibran

"Maybe God wants us to meet a few wrong people before meeting the right one, so that when we finally meet the person, we will know how to begrateful."






whatever dies was not mixed equally if our two loves be one, or thou and I Love so alike that none do slacke, none can die



John Donne - the Good Morrow










"I have loved to the point of madness; That which is called madness, That which to me, Is the only sensible way to love."F. Sagan











Love is a portion of the soul itself, and it is of the same nature as the celestial breathing of the atmosphere of paradise."Victor Hugo










Absence diminishes small loves and increases greatones, as the wind blows out the candle and blows up the bonfire."Francois de La Rouchefoucauld

Castle in the Sky

we built a castle in the sky entirely from dreams, my true love and I

It'was created from desire, radiating light as if touched by st elmo's fire

celestial argent clouds its foundation, never was there a truer formation

outside it might be chilly and gray but here it is always a temperate day

our hearts we tied together with garlands of musk scented roses forever

we shared goblets of rubyred wine and peeled the fruits of each others minds

our bed is made up of silken damask, our bodies each others only repast

eternal hours together we lay forgetting that our bodies were made out of clay

together we burn in a chemical wedding our two elements melding together

i drift on morpheus's phaeton to the castle for nocturnal visitations

half smile on my lips, still held fast by the endless vistas of such bliss

awake i sigh and in my head infinite days without you stretch ahead