His
Condition
I come
from the west into the east
I
am from the place of recollecting and my heart
is strangely stirred.
On
my right hand is the place of fire
and at my left hand is water
For
my right hand holds the sun my father
and my left hand the moon my mother.
Before
me are the diamonds of light
their sword is in my hand with the long rays of dawn
Behind
me is the cup of waters and wines
the bowl into which the diviner gazes.
Where
is my centre, for the centre rises
it lifts and is in no place,
in no place and everywhere.
Deep
blue and green are the waters of the west,
O Master of the Past,
Blue and green and white in their churning and
gliding.
At
my right hand are the flames and the rays' long hands
from Re' at his noon.
At
my left are little pools and the face of the moon
shedding her pearly light on a stream.
The
finest of yellow skies is before me and it
trembles and changes every moment
building shapes and dissecting them -
vistas, palaces, masses of trees as arbitrary
as ice packs.
Move
now to calm the heart: let the questing
intelligence balance the blue deep of the tragic
voice that says: think no more, search only these
depths within.
The
violence of the search, let it be quenched again
in those fastnesses of the southern mind,
those impenetrable mountains.
Remember
the cone of the great sun above us,
and equally the cone of shadow beneath us:
our shadows and our lights stretch to all the
universe.
Also
our colours and changings of direction are of a
small corner of the world,
we are small creatures, and playing perhaps at
a wrong point.
Do
not be frenetic with dogma.
When
the scales are adjusted comes the wrapping
of a cloak,
a rough cloak but adequate, covering the personae.
Then
here I am and here I am not.
(C) Copyright 1999
STARDANCER
All Rights Reserved
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