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"Morgan
& Gloriana"
That night Morgan fell asleep with a big smile on her face, the thought of her new oboe warming her heart.
Upon
touching her pillow,Morgan found herself floating in space. When she looked down she saw a silver floor beneath her feet.
When she looked up, she saw a silver sail, a full moon and starry skies overhead. At last Morgan realized that she was gliding
through the air in a grand silver ship, its mast made of diamonds, its sails embroidered in threads of gold.
She gazed
down upon the ground below. In the distance, she saw a milky sea that stretched to the horizon. On the edge of the sea lay
a green meadow. In the middle of the meadow stood a glorious tree which glittered in the moonlight.
Morgan's ship landed
at the foot of the tree. Morgan looked from the tree to the ocean. On the edge of the ocean the sea began to swell. Slowly,
a shining creature emerged from the waves and foam. Arising from the sea was a beautiful woman, who had gleaming silver hair
and ivory skin. She wore a crystal gown which sparkled under the dove-white moon. As the woman approached Morgan and the tree,
her gown left streams of tiny stars in its wake. A hundred sea birds flew in rings above the woman's head. When the woman
reached the tree, Morgan knelt down before her. Thinking she must be some powerful goddess, Morgan was too overwhelmed to
move.
At last the woman spoke.
In a voice as sweet as sugar she said, "arise my child. You, dear Morgan, have no reason
to fear me."
"You know who I am?" asked Morgan in surprise.
"Of course. I have kept a close eye on you all your life,
as I do with all descendents of Finn Fingall. My husband, Lord Oberon, has spoken of you many times."
As soon as she heard
this, Morgan knew who this wondrous woman must be.
"Forgive me, Queen Gloriana," she said as she curtsied. "I did not recognize
you at first."
"It is understandable, my child. We have never met face to face. Moreover, I look a little different every
night. Everyone who gazes upon me sees me differently."
"There is something that confuses me, your Highness," said Morgan.
"As Queen of Faeries I thought you lived in the forest, not in the sea."
“It is true that I usually live in the forest,”
Gloriana nodded. “But I was born in the sea, many ages ago. I often return there at night to sleep. Or I travel to the ocean
of stars above to dream my dreams.”
“Oh, that seems like a most pleasant place to sleep and dream.”
“Indeed it is.
And from there I can see anyone or anything I want to see.”
“If you please, your Highness, could you tell me if this tree
is a sacred Faery tree?”
“Yes it is, child. We call her Old Grand Mother U.”
“So is she related to Grand Father A Tree?”
“In
a manner of speaking, she is. This sacred tree is the mother of all Yew trees.”
“She must be very old then,” Morgan said.
“Yes,
she is most ancient.”
“And does she sing too, like Father Apple Tree?”
“Of course. That is, if you have the ears to
hear. In fact, I will leave you now so you may sit with Mother Yew Tree and listen to her song. I am glad to see you brought
your oboe with you this time.”
Though Morgan could not remember bringing her oboe, sure enough, she looked down and saw
it in her hand. When she looked up she found Gloriana floating in the air.
With a wave of her hand, the Queen said, “farewell
Morgan. I am glad we finally met face to face. Just listen to my special friends, the Owl, the Yew and the snowy Dove, and
you will learn all that you need to know. Just open your heart, then listen and learn.”
With that, Gloriana floated away
in a stream of sea green light.
Left alone, Morgan looked to Grand Mother U Tree. She sat at the foot of the silver tree
in a chair of soft moss and grass. As she sat, an Owl and Dove flew into the tree and perched on a branch above her head.
The birds sang a song together, their two liquid melodies melting into one. As the two sang, Old Mother Yew hummed her own
song, as soft and soothing as a gentle summer rain. But before Morgan could learn the Song of the Yew Tree, she fell asleep.
And as she fell asleep in her dream, she awoke from her Faery dream, to find herself in her very own bed. An unknown melody
floated through her head. It was as soft and soothing as the ocean tide. But in the next instant it was gone, like a silver
wave as it melts into the golden shore.
From the Book of Poetry
ELEGIES OF THE MASK
"Second
Elegy"
(this city, this rubble, these mirroring windows, these redoubtable struggles,
these listless men, this
dimsionless vista, these shorelines imposed)
Why have the Angels left us to seek our absolution
in the dense arms
of rank and aquisition
This chair, this car, this border, this yard of shag or lawn or rayon or nation
wrapped like
clinging bedsheets in stranglehold about our necks & chests
as if some material sex-gain-thing, a pure thingness
which
measures our ultimate gain & worth
Where do these curving stairs lead?
To what regulations, what strivings, what
starvings ...
To the ring of the regulus?
vain accomplishments of the uterus? of slag heap or ironworks?
endless
innovations of microcircuit? conjurations & manipulations of the tube?
And where does this other gate lead?
on the
other side of the curve
into what garden? into what vast memory?
under what understanding stars?
There the bell
of the angelus
the fresh face of the choirboy we once were
joyous in the mystery of candle's ritual
We feel the
faces glancing, glaring in the mirror
We fear our hands before the flame
We fight our impulse to jump through the mirror
to
shatter that false image which wears the human mask
and stands before us tauntingly
twisted in hidden desires, a vague
discontent
The wavering secrets
The deeply buried prism
Its oscillating gains
(as cyclic repetition generates
precision & mass)
Celebrated by small multitudes in uninhibited joy
Wallowing in some recondite Mass
known but to
gnomes & Gnostics & Hermetic warriors
Its indistinct utterances
A demon song to the orthodox
Yet the vesper herald
of artists devoted to silent psalms
songs of the unearthed
All unclaimed wonder
The all enduring magnitude sublimely
announced
in the frost of stained glass
the stone trefoil & leadened mullions
Reconstituted in purple mountains'
vast surmise ....
Should we kiss her or worship her?
as if an Angel's glance made into joyous flesh
Should
we devote ourselves to the angelus
Reconstitute Gregorian chant
in the grunts and heaves of penitent love?
Or compose
in the myriad of mad act & drugged ecstasy
some senseless celebration
to the Mask of the Wise?
(this ecstasy,
this obscurity, this answer, this Sangreal, this shaft,
a phallum or rocket thrust to Eternity,
to the glittering
glimmering of gold, to a nameless God)
Excerpt from the Fantasy Novel
MASTER OF THE GUILD
It
was two days’ ride from Mother Hypatia’s cottage to the Maw of Delphus. The Paterini had spoken little since the encounter
with the Cacus, their usually gay spirits dampened by their uncertainty and loss. Wary of this latest threat, the Paterini
were unusually alert as they approached the Maw of Delphus.
The Maw was considered one of the world’s sacred points of
power. According to legend, it was the center of the world and the birthplace of the Five Realms. It had been the home of
many ancient religions, most prominently the followers of the goddess Kalidar and, later, the Artemar. It was here that they
held their sacred rites, where their initiates learned the secrets of death and rebirth, where magic was practiced, where
their Prophetess spoke the oracular language of the gods. Over the centuries, the ecstatic rites of the Goddess were supplanted
by the more formal rituals of priests and kings, and the patriarchal religion of Apollan and Phoebar.
It was only natural
that when the first Monarchos, Demiurgus, came to power, he made Delphus the center of his empire. Here, he could solidify
his theocratic rule, claiming divine kingship, using the power of the priesthood and the ancient liturgy to support his authority.
After the death of Demiurgus, the Maw began its gradual decline. The sons and grandsons of the Monarchos fought over control
of the central realm. In the process, Demiurgus’ palace was destroyed. His once great city was burned and desecrated. All
that remained were charred pillars, rocky ruins and the scattered cobblestones of ancient streets. The once grand gardens
had long since turned to seed. The Temple of Delphus, one of the wonders of the ancient world, lay in ruin.
Yet the holiest
site of Delphus remained. Before the existence of cities or temples, before kings or priests rose to power, when civilization
was but a dream in the mind of Apollan, there stood the cave of Delphus. It was in this cave that the priestesses of Kalidar
proclaimed their oracles. The devotees of the ancient religion still made pilgrimages to the Maw and to the sacred cave.
When
the Paterini arrived at the Maw, Berenice went straight to the cave. With Hypatia’s ashes in hand, she entered the sacred
site. The men waited outside under a grove of cedar trees. Ramar took out his copy of the book, THE FIRST POWER, and began
to read.
After some deep searching, Ramar came across a verse that he had never seen before. It told of the Simurg bird
and its mystic feather. It read:
“As the Serpent draws the lightning Power
through its fiery skin,
And the dolphin
breathes in
the nectar of the Sea,
So the Simurg and its crystal feather
drink the light of the Sun,
Giving
all that touch them
the endless eyes to see.
As the Light, the heart & the feather
bring all things together,
Making
the sky & earth as one,
Lifting Mind and Spirit into the Eye of the Deathless One.”
Ramar did not know what to make
of this cryptic verse. He sensed that there were valuable secrets hidden in the text, secrets that might help him understand
his past experience and his deeper powers. But he could not find the key to unlock the mystery.
After an hour of intense
study, Ramar saw Berenice emerge from the cave. She seemed worn with fatigue. Her eyes were red, either from the strain of
darkness or from the toll of tears. First she nodded at the other Paterini. Then she walked up to Ramar.
With a marbled
expression and a stern voice she said, “Ramar, it is now your turn.”
“My turn?” he muttered. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I
mean it is your time to enter the cave.”
“Why would I want to enter the cave?” he asked warily. “Anyway, I thought it was
a place reserved for women.”
“It is true that these days it is mostly women who enter. But the inner sanctum is open to
anyone who may profit from its wisdom. During ancient times all sorts of men and women consulted the Oracle. Now there is
more fear and less willingness to enter the cave. But there is no real reason to fear it, particularly if you go in with a
pure heart. Though the oracular Priestess is long gone, her holy word may still be found within, at least by those who have
the ears to hear. “
Still doubtful, Ramar asked, “but how do you know that I should enter?”
Firmly, she answered, “because
I was told so by the voice within.”
Unwilling to simply accept this explanation, Ramar asked, “the voice within? What do
you mean? Why would I go inside?”
Berenice raised her fingers to his lips and said, “shush.”
She then took a leather
pouch from the folds of her dress and said, “take this with you. It should help you to hear. But you must not open it up,
no matter what happens.”
“What should I do when I get inside?”
“You will know when you get there. Just trust in what
you feel.”
Despite his lingering doubts, Ramar moved toward the cave. He took Berenice’s torch with him to light the way.
At the mouth of the cave were inscribed numerous symbols, a flaming serpent, a spiral maze, an array of circles, triangles
and stars.
Ramar followed the winding tunnel down into the earth until it opened up into a cavern. Stalactites hung from
the high ceiling, the roof embedded with tiny star-bright crystals that glimmered in the torch’s flame. A jagged fissure cut
across the floor, like a black wound slashed through the skin of the earth. At the center of the cave, spanning the fissure,
a bronze chair had been erected. For centuries it stood as the throne of the oracle, the High Priestess of Kalidar. Now it
was a ruined relic, the seat destroyed, its three long legs rusted and bent yet deeply embedded in the ground.
White fumes
seeped out from the fissure in the earth. At first the fumes smelled foul and sulfurous, bringing tears to Ramar’s eyes. With
time the smell softened, taking on the briny scent of the sea. Overcome by the fumes, Ramar lowered himself to the ground.
Once seated, his body began to tingle and tremble. In order to quell his uneasiness, Ramar used a technique he had learned
from The First Power. Drawing all his senses inward, he focused his mind on a single symbol. He fixed all his consciousness
on a point between his eyes. He spread the fire of his breath rhythmically through his body. Becoming one with the sign of
the fivefold sun, Ramar experienced a pulsing over his hands and heart.
After a moment of confusion, he recognized the
source of the vibration. It came from Hypatia’s pouch and from his Simurg feather. With eyes closed, he felt light emanating
from the objects, like luminous ripples in a pool. Subtle colors and currents surrounded him, as if layers of luminous flesh
newly covering his skin. He felt a quaking of the earth, then a sense of displacement, a separation from ordinary time and
space.
These sensations were similar to what he experienced with the Simurg, but this time he never fell out of consciousness.
Light shimmered before his closed eyes. His body trembled in synchrony with the quaking ground.
Energy surged through
him, in alternating currents of silver and gold.
A lightning bolt flashed through his flesh, shattering his body into a
thousand infinitesimal pieces.
His life force lifted upward. His being became a luminous fountain surging, spiraling from
the earth.
His awareness ascended to worlds beyond, past fiery lakes and diamond forests, through cyclones of light, beyond
spiraling rainbows and clouds of gold. Stars sprang to life and burst around him, filling the magnitude with countless white
fires.
Above him loomed an ocean of light, pulsing in time to his heartbeat, sharing in his every breath and thought.
A vast presence floated in the sea above. It filled him with luminous sentience. It sang a hymn of restoration and belonging,
uttered in a language of radiance and love. Slowly words became recognizable, erupting like stars from the milky sea. Words
as revelation rained down upon his limitless eyes.
As the light rained down to say,
“At last, in returning to me, we
may return in part to you, in you and through you, one light, one Selfsame longing, a joining of purest intention, infinite,
beyond, yet suffusing all matter from the great forest of life and feelings to the sky and sea of light above. I embrace your
wish and your wonder, Ramar of the Golden Kin. I receive it as I receive you, with all the love and mystery and fullness of
the sea, in that hidden place of majesty and cosmic completion, born in your darkness yet residing in the luminousness of
me. Rest assured that we will always be with you, in life as in death, as we are wed to the same pure power and desire. The
mask of your mind and flesh has led you to forget this timeless place, this your greater source and knowing. But such things
are never lost. They live in your dreams and speak through your songs. Though you have much to remember about yourself and
about the lost all, your end and completion is near, nearer than you could possibly know.”
Ramar felt his being rock with
joy with these words. Though he did not wholly understand the heavenly song, as it shifted between light and symbol and unspoken
word, he felt its ineffable truth, its endless power.
The presence embraced Ramar with its wisdom, filled him with light,
its ecstatic flame subsuming all the love he had ever in his lifetime known, offering in return all completeness and peace.
In
his mind Ramar asked the presence, “where am I going? Who am I? What will I become?”
For countless moments Ramar floated
in the luminance, yet heard no answer to his questions. Within the white sea Ramar saw flashes of his mother’s face and form.
He felt her fullness touch his distant flesh. He heard the echo of her voice singing mythic songs. Their sound swelled beneath
him, supporting him, drawing his awareness from the heights.
He sifted down, shifting from stellar magnitudes to flashes
of dreamscape, to the limits of body and flesh. The once bright sea became a tiny, pulsing spot amidst the greater architecture
of stars. As his awareness drifted down, he became engulfed in a stream of grey tendrils. The tendrils became swirls of smoke
which wrapped around him and burned his eyes.
He lifted his heavy eyelids.
He saw a torch’s flame glittering off a
golden tripod. He thought he saw a shimmering woman’s form in the fumes, before the shape dissipated in a swirl of smoke.
Finally he awoke to the darkness of the cave.
In a daze of confusion and a mist of pulsing lights, Ramar stumbled
out of the cave. The world quivered with golden life. Near the cave was Berenice, sitting on a silver stone that sparkled
in the sun.
When Ramar was joined by Berenice, he did not know what to say. He still felt streams of energy filling him,
rushing through his veins. He felt his feelings overwhelm him, ecstasy, wonder, doubt and awe rising and falling, each fighting
for supremacy. He wanted to laugh at the impossibility, then cry at the magnitude and beauty of it all. Everything around
him seemed transformed. The trees and plants were more colorful and alive, tied to each other and the ground and sky in an
invisible web of energy and knowing.
Ramar muttered to Berenice, “I don’t understand what just happened to me. I experienced
something, something unbelievable in the cave. It is more than I can comprehend or explain.”
Berenice put her hand on his
shoulder and said, “I understand. That is often the way it is in the Cave of the Oracle. But try to tell me what happened,
that is if you wish to share it with me.”
“I would like for you to know, Berenice. Maybe then you can help me understand.
Some of what happened was similar to what I experienced with the Simurg. But this time I was more awake, more alive than before,
more alive than I have ever been. When I entered the cavern I was overwhelmed by a surge of incredible energy. I went to a
place more vast than the sky or ocean. I felt a presence and a power I have never felt before. My mind exploded, expanding
far beyond the bounds of my body.
Some things were communicated to me by the great presence, but I am not sure now what
that presence was. An unspoken voice hinted of my destiny, hinted at what I truly am. But everything was spoken in a language
of light and sound and color that I couldn’t fully understand. Yet I could feel it. I felt such a sense of love, of belonging
and completion, the like of which I have not known since I was a child, since I was in the arms of my mother. All of this
and more stemmed from the presence beyond the stars.”
Berenice sighed, smiled, and said, “such things you speak of are
not unknown to women, but are more rarely experienced by men. This is because you were welcomed home by your mother. This
is the presence you felt. You were touched by your first and truest mother, our great Goddess who lives in the stars beyond,
just as she lives in the trees and streams and ground below.
The Artemar call this divine presence Mother Nuitalla. The
ancient Kalidar named her Binahokma, she who is the first and greatest wisdom, and second to none in power. The Holy Virgin
Mother has chosen to lift her veil and reveal a part of herself to you. She has seen fit to bless you with a drop of her infinite
love. What you have experienced is one of the greatest gifts imaginable. It is a gift held sacred by the Artemar. It is a
sublime boon that few men are blessed to receive, for to see the Goddess, a man must touch the divine feminine force within
himself.”
Ramar sighed, and said, “I do feel blessed by this, as I did by the visitation of the Simurg. I just wish that
I understood it better. I wish the Oracle or the Goddess could have answered some of my questions. I am beginning to wonder
if I will ever discover the truth about myself.”
“Of course you will,” Berenice reassured him. “But I don’t think anyone
can answer these questions for you. I think you must answer them for yourself. That is because you are still learning, you
are still in the process of creating yourself. As Mother Hypatia once told me, we are always in the process of creating and
reinventing ourselves, as well as our destinies. You are just beginning your process of initiation. After some time at Monsolvat,
many of these things will become clear to you.”
Under his breath, Ramar whispered, “I just hope to Goddess you are right.”
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