Colour & Sound

Hilma Af Klint-The Swan No 17-1915

Colour & Sound
permeate porous conscience
saturating & reverbating
awash & adrift
infiltrated by rays of light
pure & impure
sharp & dull
hard & soft

from the East there shines both a brilliant blue light & a dim white light
in the Mirror there shines both a brilliant white light & a dim smoky light
from the South there shines both a brilliant yellow light & a dim blue light
from the West there shines both a brilliant red light & a dim red light
from the North there shines both a brilliant green light & a dim green light

aware of every noise in this impermanent realm
a cacophony that banishes even an ideal of silence
the roar of oceans the creaking of forests
claps of thunder the rippling applause of the audience
the clash of shifting tectonic plates
controlled demolition of skyscrapers
incessant babble of voices
bird song & whale song
barking & mewling
screams & howls of pain
sighs & moans of pleasure
susurration of waves
sound of metal impacting against concrete

those pure bright piercing brilliant lights
sharp and hard
of blue white yellow red green
in the Eastern Extremities
in the perfectly polished Mirror
in the Deepest South
in the Western Reaches
in the Farthest North
I desire their light
attached to their promise
but I am afraid
of their pure bright piercing brilliance
their razor sharpness
their diamond hardness

the impure dim soft dull lights
of white smoky blue red green
beckon hazily
but I hear someone I knew
someone who cared for me back then
say mantras tantras & sutras
so I abandon all attachment
to those impure dim soft dull inviting lights

even when the multi variegated rainbow splendor radiates forth
I turn away
to wander inwards
to wander downwards
in the bardo
a limbo
this new different intermediate state

Eight Phases

Max Ernst-Mer et Soleil 1925


Your rays subliminally influencing
Events in the sublimest fashion
A make believe that control
Is this sense of utter desolation

Waxing Crescent

From this perspective nothing more
Than a finely paired sliver of fingernail
A silvered slice of a majesty
Abstract sterile and unforgiving

First Quarter

Approaching the rapprochement
You’re taking me higher
Away from the prison of self
Seeing from a new vantage point

Waxing Gibbous

Down below an Empire of Dust
Always in danger of drowning
Beneath the tides and waves
Commanded by a baleful Goddess


Turning cycling transforming
Through periods of lunacy
A lucidity that threatens
To consume me with consolation

Waning Gibbous

Finely woven silken threads
Form a ladder between spheres
Tentatively I step before running
With eyes closed in between spaces

Third Quarter

Stately slow celestial procession
The magnificent isolation of beauty
Cold and barren yet inspiring
Worshipful hymns of devotion

Waning Crescent

Nearing the inevitable death
The dark side beckons, smothers
Then the Heavenly metronome
Pauses for a beat, starts again

Into At Upon

Rene Magritte-The False Mirror 1929

Sometimes it is difficult to look into you
For your eyes are a mirror reflecting
Staring through the facade of facile charm
Seeing into my ragged threadbare soul
Held together with staples and sellotape
An echoing chamber of other’s voices
You already know that I’m ancient and weary
And I fear your lofty disdain and contempt

Sometimes it is difficult to look at you
For I know that you possess qualities
That blaze with the intensity of a young star
Nurturing vast seething potentialities
Spreading a soft burnished golden light
Over the warming oceans of its satellite
Illuminating the deepest ravine and valley
Far too fierce to be gazed upon directly

Sometimes it is difficult to look upon you
For this is samsara and we are flowing
Downstream towards the roaring rapids
By chance we floated past each other
And I felt a fleeting sensation of affinity
But soon the current will change course
And with each ebbtide we will drift apart
Taking different tributaries to the destination

Encounter at the Obsidian Gates

Retreat in the Spring Hills-unknown artist circa 12th Century CE

“To pass through these Obsidian Gates that separate the known world
From the barbarous Western Lands populated with dog-headed peoples,
Bizarre creatures, devouring demons and ferociously hungry ghosts
You must give an account of the Way, for I know who you are, old man
I saw through your disguise of being a humble hermit straight away
I know that you are the Archivist of the Most August Emperor
You are the one they call the Old Master, the Ancient Child,
A transformed butterfly, the eternal dragon of the Southern Sky.”

The hermit was silent while the mists dissipated and gathered again
There was a definite chill in the late autumnal air, winter was near
The night watchman huddled closer to the flickering flames of the fire
But the old man didn’t move an inch, just sat without saying a word
He seemed to the night watchman to be melting away into the fog
As he fall into a daze watching the play of shadows on the walls
Against the damp stone he thought he glimpsed something other
Then the Old Master began to speak in tones more ancient than days

“Do you know what you ask when you demand an account of the Way?
I alone am still, I recognize no signs, I flow as water and with time
What words or characters could convey the Way, by definition ineffable?
Worse, names and words divide and subdivide the world indefinitely
There are many righteous paths to follow if you wish to go astray
A thing becomes this and a thing becomes that when really it is of itself
But if you insist I will say in terms terse, enigmatic and ambiguous
Because the things we cannot speak of we must forever remain silent.”

Dream Sublime

Bartolomeu Velho-Figure of the Heavenly Bodies-1568

The stars above, the void below only inclines
So tell me what is the force that compels
Enduring love, boundless desire, the dream sublime

Of the unmoving still point, bisected lines
The circumference of a circle that swells
To the stars above, the void below that inclines

Our too human nature toward the divine
Seeking with the uncertain aid of garbled spells
Enduring love, boundless desire, the dream sublime

Rendering us breathless, tongue tied and supine
In the velvet gloved darkness of fur lined cells
Looking at the stars above, the void below that inclines

Towards the solution of this difficult equation, a cosine
That in the timelessness of the One we will dwell
In enduring love, boundless desire, the dream sublime

That now then and what is to come is yours and mine
Nothing in nature or the world can quell
The stars above, the void below that inclines
Toward enduring love, boundless desire, the dream sublime.