The Knowledge

Wisdom hath built her House-Anonymous 16th Century

Here I am in this world,
But feeling
Not of this world.

Myriad years
Chimerical cities
Phantasmagorical people

Drugged and dreaming
Unaware even
That I was ever there

Stepping into rivers
Do I remember?
Glimpsing a place apart

Black lace veil rent
Revealing the plentitude
Beyond the painted stars

Refractions of the Invisible
Something like a colour,
A touch of light.

The meaning of myth,
Closer to the Absolute
Than precise measurements.

I saw, why couldn’t you?
That you and I
Are but One

All multiplicity seeks
A return so flows
Towards the source

The fire burns hottest
Within the core
Only here gets us there.

21 Bites of the World

Le Monde-Tarot Deck c 19th century

I never denied the beauty:

Imperial pomp of sunrise,
The seductive glamour of sunset.

The snaking voluptuous river,
Swollen with incessant downpours,

The glitter of rare raw minerals,
A glimmer waiting in the depths.

Beyond the mist in the distance,
The harrowing sublimity of mountains.

The perceived chant of the angels,
Drifting across the aether.

The vertiginous descent of the eagle,
Intent upon the sighted prey.

The patient strength of the ox,
Harnessed for growth and generation.

The gilded and haloed lion,
Surveying the buffet of the savannah.

The shining lights of the city,
On the snow capped hilltop.

The voluminous text of flesh
Awaiting to be read in the dark.
The beauty of the world is undoubted:
But I suspected treachery
A beauty that bites after caressing
Wanting to leave its mark
Because it too is just passing
A floating world of samsara,
Always changing; never 
Still: completes a cycles,
 Pauses briefly before transformation
Then same as it ever was,
Is or will be.

I had recognized Him not

Noli Me Tangere-Titian c 1514

The ceaseless tears
Rained down my cheeks,
My breathes ragged gulps
In between a wail and a sob,
A heart riven twice again
My stricken rent soul
Searching in this isolated place:
I ask the angels,
Where is the body of My Lord?
Where has my Beloved gone?
But only silence
I turn around
To see a man, a stranger
Possibly the groundskeeper
A tiller of soil, a planter of seeds
He asks me gently
As to the reason for my distress
I answer that I need to find him,
My brother, my father,
My companion, my son,
The one who gave me succour
In the darkness,
Cast out the seven demons
With ease and gentleness,
If you know where he has been taken
Tell me so that I may tend to his body;
To which he simply said Mary:
I had recognized Him not.
How could I have not known
It was Rabboni
Heavenly consort
Transformed with inner light,
I rushed over
But he stilled me, saying,
Do not touch me
Mary, my tower of strength,
My sister, my child,
My bride, my mother,
Divine Sophia
For although I have descended
To harrow Hell
I have yet to ascend
To the One,
Beyond this realm of matter,
To the father and mother of us all
Not the mother who bears
Not the father who raises
Not the creator of this world
But the Source of the Word
Go now, my Beloved,
You who always understood me the best,
Be the apostle to the apostles
And tell them where I am going.


Mandala of Pancharaksha

Dream that descend as waterfalls
Illuminating diamond brilliance deepest night
The glowing tail of a shooting star
Flashes of lightning amidst menacing clouds
Lamp shining in an assassin’s cave
Upon awakening transparent as bubbles
Illusions in the watery morning light
See the endless things as a dewdrop

Floating City VII

Ma Yuan-The Waving Surface of the Autumn Flood c1222

There, among the canals, every twist and turn
Leads to the unexpected, yet another splendour,
Riot of decadence, symbolic decay, hinting at danger;
Look upward though at the sun illuminating the water
Flowing past the grandeur hidden in vaults
Towards the ever present Island of the Dead,
Flooding the damned Cities of the Plain
Further still rushing beyond the Pure Land
To cascade inexorably onto the Other Shore.

Here, in this place's essence of impermanence, I taste eternity.