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Malierk 29

Just like physical astronomy may be perceived as the science of

shadows, philosophical astronomy may be the science of realities

Hall, Manly P., Pythagorean Mathematics in The Secret Teachings of All

Ages, (Penguin: New York, 2003), p. 205

Perhaps metaphysics is superfluous, yet it is serving the transcendent

function – and this, as long as a man or a woman is not completely

enslaved - will never exhaust itself.

Frigg qvaþ:

«Heill þv farir! heill þv aptr komir!

heill þv a sinnom sér!

Frigg spake: "Safe mayst thou go, safe come again,

And safe be the way thou wendest!

- Poetic Edda, Stanza 4, Vafthruthnismol

Moving across the field of shadows, visible phenomena and

events, we conjure new shadows to existence, manipulating them in the

theater of life, as ideas fall into form. Whether one may move the

deserts, or dance to the lightning storms, how is it that miracles are

impressive only in degree in which the world is taken for real, as an

absolute world, beyond which there is nothing more. Where hints of

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greater realms, become misunderstood pointing to this one. Identified as

shadow of the essential world, moving through the pregnant cosmic

space giving birth to new forms, in which – if any ends are governed by

necessity – it is to step beyond its influence, or being enchanted by all its

scenes, delighted by what is. When physical body suffers, and mind

believes the senses, further separating from the essence, embracing the

shadows and treating them like an absolute reality of consciousness. The

gargantuan voids of the universe belittles, where a human being

confronted with awe finds itself in suspense of glory, yet the

spacelessness of essence, timelessness of orouboros being everywhere

and nowhere – makes the world large, overburdening, at different times

small. As if the space is dreamed only for the consciousness to realize its

separation from essence, between the dance of the worlds, dimensions,

realities, returning to the point in which it becomes infinite, burning away

content that enslaved it, ready for the last gestures that unites the image

and reflection, in-between merely casting a shadow as another universe,

in which the theater of the games of actors is perceived as impermanent,

where masks worn, all must leave their form, shape upon departure,

perhaps wearing something else – equally illusory – sometimes returning

to the scenes they nourished, in-between the shells of shadows and

another life. Yet, in the limits of dream that renews itself with every

existence, it enchants with beauty and benefactions, averting through

death and pain. How thus find the key to this sublimation? No one on this

side hath answered, neither can I. Practical affairs of the world, their

scenes, convincing life as something possessed, catching the attention of

issues that grow in profundity, of deep relevance, yet when this flash of

reality steals the mind, where the consciousness that cannot escape the

longing, within which it appears as a tragedy, but also a greatness among

those many who never see, amongst these who weep upon seeing?

Esthetics and beauty of ideas expressed, that live in the essence, may re-

deify, measuring a human with the world, and the human Godhead by

the essence of idea, that it can incarnate and live, uncaught, unspoiled,

being a measure of one’s humaneness. How realization of these ideas, of

which a particle sees itself in the mirrors of existence, depart, how thus

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they arrive? The universe consumes itself, when a consciousness

disentangles itself from the dream, microcosm that dissolves in a

macrocosmic reflection, what is beyond? The universe as a mind lasts

through its consciousness, yet where the reality in relation to the

shadows, where its’ content? It is a paradox, in which the universe is a

theater of consciousness, a field whose existence closes in greater

unfathomable laws, grammar of being, that must last, as long as it does,

from which one may exclude oneself through defeating the paradox,

freeing from the loop, destroying it, closing the cycle, existing and

participating only inasmuch a reality that is attached to it, as long as the

grasping of the real continues. From this viewpoint it is not important,

whether one participates in this illusion, or how one participates in it,

deciding to depart through its relative fabric, or return, if there are

thousand worlds in which one may experience oneself, in happiness, or

suffering, as long as it is remembered as an illusion, when it becomes

reality we become prisoners, the playthings of its manifestations, that

subjugate, enslave, and teach suffering – yet also – transcendence, and

compassion towards these prisoners who mistook the idea, for a greater

reality.

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The Cry ......................................................................................................... 6

Imagineerist ................................................................................................ 7

Cycle ........................................................................................................... 10

The Meeting .............................................................................................. 11

Are the Heavens Saying Farewell ............................................................ 12

The Kingdoms ........................................................................................... 13

Agape ......................................................................................................... 14

Agape II ..................................................................................................... 15

Memory ..................................................................................................... 15

To sit in Profound Silence ......................................................................... 17

Pleroma ..................................................................................................... 17

Operator .................................................................................................... 18

Insa(i)n/[i]t:l-y * Sa[i]nit(l)y ...................................................................... 18

The Wrathful Moments of Harmony ....................................................... 19

On the Philosopher’s Stone ..................................................................... 20

Moonbeams .............................................................................................. 21

The Pairs .................................................................................................... 21

Stations ...................................................................................................... 22

Seventhy-Seventheers.............................................................................. 23

Flashes of Impermanence ........................................................................ 24

Shadow-walkers ........................................................................................ 25

Drunk on the wind .................................................................................... 25

No Tango ................................................................................................... 26

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Whom will see oneself? ............................................................................ 27

Hamartia .................................................................................................... 30

Pure Form Sentimentality ........................................................................ 30

Fates .......................................................................................................... 31

Laughter .................................................................................................... 31

Memory II .................................................................................................. 32

Silver Webs ................................................................................................ 33

Departure .................................................................................................. 34

Silent Abiding ............................................................................................ 34

Ghosts of Dragons .................................................................................... 35

Netjeru ....................................................................................................... 38

In Their Image ........................................................................................... 39

Of Aeons .................................................................................................... 39

Satiated ..................................................................................................... 40

Ennoia ........................................................................................................ 40

World I loved you so ................................................................................. 42

As the thunder rolled ................................................................................ 42

The return .................................................................................................. 43

The questioning ........................................................................................ 43

The Days .................................................................................................... 45

Dragon-Kindred Minds ............................................................................. 45

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THE CRY

Nay, in permanence we are bereft, Fixed in the early years of striving, Shadows of the things that once were, And their traces still shouting: more! Remind thus: ‘tis our share, beware, do not follow’, And with beacon of hope we lead ourselves further , Away from this shadow-ridden world, Pitying the close and beloved innocents, Whom not out of their own fault Will be taken into jaws of many world that hath been before.

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IMAGINEERIST

I Abyss that gazed into naked eyes, An orphic feast of past orgies Whom in ecstasy Torn the robes of flesh Washed in the river of Acheron Their own carnal shell devoured Beyond good and evil, Human sometimes, Sometimes beast Where cold dead stone sings: With an accusation, or apologetics Turns the table on which Served the “I” served is ”us” To quench hungry ghouls and demons Shadows weaving with black threads Portals whispered By their lords, on this fabric Fates are woven, and hell Carried on breaking backs Whom only to damned tango May flee, to the rhythm Of drums of death, that Pardon neither ignorants, Nor the insane

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II Flaming moments of passion, Tainted by swords destructive Those strike blindly, turning Words into bodies of steel That which painful, in ill-will Yet, who understood A calling in righteousness That in an avalanche of Petty misfortunes, against Shines up with an anger with a law That once against itself Once against these who harvest Bloody market of souls Those feel no more, beyond Deceitful leaders of architectures That once in their murder-some game, Violently couldn't vanquish A righteous soul So they poison with venom Patiently and viciously From within III Turning moments into naught Those once were full of fire Like a stolen identity Freed from its role, and the stories Were no longer staged theaters of will? Yet with the rhythm of life One Spirit all the actors bind And none is reminded of

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Brief minutes of holiness That in humility born, In one sacrifice aiming At liberating demonic mountains In mortal anxieties and mind Wasted in battles away Recognizing good and evil Mind in insanity fettered Where times bow to Themselves weary, yet To trespass the lands of Gods None further shall pass IV Whom was this, and who the other, In vain soul-seeking under an armor Fortified, hardened, by Theaters scenes long abandoned Where moments of sobriety With agony and empty suffering Are paid for, withdrawing Into blindness, perhaps Out of mercy, or honesty Seeking Edens lost In the desert whose advice Leads to longing for higher Starry golden fields Burning for naught to remain Finding Providence in leafs In flashes of these free spirits In the night sky shining like stars Leading crumbling hopes aright That with a broken voice Whispering between a word And a shout

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Still the eternal song chant, Least heard In the tumult of the world Carefully soaking dead tears In the chasms of an empty soul

CYCLE

The hermit reaches the summit The dragon is slain in its cave The fourfold hell consumes the fool The holy whore greets the vagabond Looking back he turns into stone. The stone becomes the merit And then the stone is no more The king is raised back to life! But this life death is called. In the desert miracles conjured! The servant slaughters the king again, And thus his limbs severed Fight against the air in vain. The Priestess sews the limbs anew The dragon transmutes into a lamb And shines inward upon the holy land

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THE MEETING

I see her - the silent Goddess In every woman that for a while In attention caught. The voice behind her, parted The voice behind me, separated They wear them unaware, Yet arrive from luminous worlds. For nearer they embrace, The smile and suspended kiss The further they part Chasing the beauty against The self-possessing ‘us’ and ‘them’. Then nearing they Are thrown apart and what Is left? The tango for those Who detest the play? The Separating crowds, mocksters Who trick those who claimed A gift as their possession. The minds, twisted - disobey, And so the God departs The Goddess flees No, only two persons in foul Play caught, understanding Nothing, not even how in Hurt and hatred moved From themselves away A smile crossed out, Flirtatiously, beware, The bitterness that subverts All the higher ways

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ARE THE HEAVENS SAYING FAREWELL

Are the heavens saying farewell In a last drop of alchymical dew Like a pearl or amethyst falling Witness, in a tear Roads that trodden rhytmically To the sound of Rheas children Fire, Damnameus, where no one Passes Akhrachammerei's fields Thus fates know fates, in this Ask not once, neither for a judge Nor a Devil's advocate Circling lives and dark machinery That for a shard of hope one may Exchange to play with chance But chances loathe the gamblers Even more, they take their bets And greater stakes, the fall then All the greater is. Gather nectar, scatter dust In the Hindu charnel grounds Dance the Chöd anathema But beware, for what you Banished, may mirror In Thee, how blessings Turn in curses Is merely a matter of degree Wishes thus, That in the darkest void Respectful silence

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Won't turn into miserable Unheard chattery.

THE KINGDOMS

Whom a confused man may be Reaching for the crown of a Magi Are the all-wise Crowns Not greater and insightful more? A vanity and vainglory Not to withdraw, Reject, and pay homage, To greater Ones that Hath been, for in These times Excellence lacks, And mediocrity prevails, Bow thus to greater ones, Preserve your freedoms And rejoice at their Command, for greater Fates seen greater times, And despite the overturned World, they beacon in the Blind human reality, Towards magnificence Of greatness past, Yet kept in noble hearts In all the Yggdrasil’s Hidden Kingdoms branches

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AGAPE

When you have fallen, I have embraced you When you have suffered, and became empty I have said: you cannot become full again without me And I am tied with suffering in this world, To meet me, you have to suffer again. For this is the price of love on Earth That it beckons yet passes away, And when fates throw us hither and thither Away from each other and close again In death's agony we shall depart To forget each other perhaps, But with a calling that never ends. Suspended judgment, blinded eyes, Yet for a while the innocence Shines, as Her robes bright, And all armies lay down swords At her command, bitter hatreds Somehow far, sober look inwards, And from the sky, how the Theatre of cruelty, murder, Suffered souls all divide, The Salik’s eye sews the Veils With grief, to know what is And is not, should not be A mortal sight indeed to Blinds itself purposefully

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AGAPE II

For whom understands love Between torment, anguish and exhaustion That paves the way for love to breathe The ones with love on their lips Do they ever speak sincerely? The surrender, the heavenly ways When after torment and regret Submission to ephemeral subtlety When even angels jealous of Such lore, do not change The bitter ones’ eyes away Surrender for the hour of it torn, Degraded by such eyes Will breathe with relief Thus love has ended, Misery yet lighter, for whom Was it a memory or sentimentality? For who tasted beauty in thirst And hunger, mild Venusian Slavery, yet to abandon her Treacherous gardens - the Only way to be free

MEMORY

Lo! What delights your senses catch In the web of futile webs that Shield terror from the mighty gaze, Strong enough to pass the gates Through death rites that had Written to the dead, what should Love, live, play, when celestial Lands cryeth: “Murder” and silence Was to blame, thus sight was returned

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To the One-Eyed man. Who could govern terror? Terror governs whom? Abyss stared back Yet with a vengeance lightning stroke It, and dispersed all its forms. Where the image, where the Substance? All worlds vanquish, all stars die While the movement hastens co-arising Of eternally something pure That no suffering will prevail, no form Will cry “woe and havoc” ever again To some hells are blissful, And slave’s markets are heavens Between divine fullness and Emptiness is a degree of quality, Neither war nor opposition And indeed they contain each other in the Ananke’s Order, they both eat from the Cosmic womb that gives birth to and devours And that is death - a trifle spectacle Interesting only to the ones who Didn’t die in life, as many times As their fates pleased for them to die

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TO SIT IN PROFOUND SILENCE

I’ve seen you once To know that our ashes Perhaps in the wind may Meet With bitter silence Death throws up dust to conjure life, What is now, and what was then Those cruel without restraint Will same dust be? So throw the ashes in their eyes, And laugh your pain away, For these a noble misfortune To see that the executors of pain, Equally of ash will be.

PLEROMA

When I'm tired And abandon all Human sentiment I imagine that There is no one Else around And that I have Unlimited command To destroy this Old universe in light And return to unity That knows not

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Suffering, but Neither this Nor that contained within primordial infinity.

OPERATOR

Immeasurable proportions Of allergy to words That senselessly flow Into the void. Catch the wings of the Wordless song Everything else is Incessant Twittering rubbish!

INSA(I)N/[I]T:L-Y * SA[I]NIT(L)Y

Shuffling realities like a wild ontological whore That spits our Horusean epi-phenomenal mindsturbations Hooking up tunnel-realities just to attune the whole Through the humanity's narrations kernels of super-charged Soul Everything is real, and less so At certain levels of self-limiting test The model of illusory existence works best Now stop. Gods don't speak tongues Backlash. Into more human zones Reality check, one two, three, Enough. Time to dive in the timeless zone

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Structures of sanity and pseudo-reality Focus. work. Rock'n'roll Gnosis Tomorrow, you will be reborn again, After the dream will kill your memories And the new day will choose another Chaotic, yet ultimately Good Exploratory Tale that is Valid In all Objective Zones

THE WRATHFUL MOMENTS OF HARMONY

I hope I will be a god of the ones who live no more, but strive to tie the knots weaving stories into whole A hunter, an exterminating sword whose hawkish splendor spreading through the night will be a blazing thunder rolling through the pits burning them into the endless chained abominable sleep until they shall be cleansed and to nature will return taking rightful ownership of their paths previously forlorn

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ON THE PHILOSOPHER’S STONE

The experiential knowledge of the Whole, Turns base things into Gold Labores Pariunt Honores The prism of the Prakash Shines upon a healthy soul Labores Pariunt Honores And lifts steadily Divine Nature’s Veils Labores Pariunt Honores Until withdrawn in silence At a fallen age, turns inward All the works that no longer Are needed in this world. AVERT! In life struggle, in death arise But the greatness is commitment Labores Pariunt Honores That rectified and spread Sweeps new life into the whole Labores Pariunt Honores

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Refreshing the bond Between the Stars, the Divine Dimensions, and Human Souls. Labores Pariunt Honores What lies ahead - no one knows, But many of us will renew a sacred Pact, that no other civilization Has ever dreamed of. Labores Pariunt Honores

MOONBEAMS

In the moonlit crowns They fly towards the sabbat Silver-lined Queens Mirroring natural human fears Nature, chtonic-womanly, Not diabolic, but lunar Contains every life’s pulse Happiness and wrath

THE PAIRS

Nature of grief unfolds completely Dissolved in loving surrender to Works undone, that must be continued While the times are unsteady and flickering Even when death will come, we will Arise victorious, what humanity will do listening, or deaf to the Call, is up to

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fates to decide, when time will come we will be as part of the call, never surrendering our brethren in times that threaten them with darkness and we shall liberate one by one even if only the last on Earth will remain we shall keep calling with a sweet voice that is all love, all truth, all harmony.

STATIONS

I could hop off many times before [how cathartic and hateful towards the perpetrators, the bastards, the whores]

In a different story, written just for us [the content unimportant, remnant and sentiments of past loves]

But whenever I have sighed, and rested [to think 'is it over, finally']

They had to tear my soul and heart apart [let's take another test, we'll put you through a hundreth ordeal]

So now I no longer believe any fairy-tales [if there ever where ones believable enough]

I’m a decoding machine, that feels [what was ripped from a dead heart]

And dangerously unravels [for who would withstand bare truth?] What strikes at the beauties heart [if it cannot withstand cold

mathematics, what is the purpose of that?] Is it a revenge? I’d never think so [for I would never dare to take

this away] Otherwise machines would never write [and they do, as

witnessed here] Poetry with their blood [the remnants that are pulsing through a

heart] In a solitary journey to Pari-nirwâna [self-consumption of being]

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Of an automaton so fully self-aware [evolutionary spirit closed within a carnal circuit]

That it shed the subtleties of humans’ [the thin line between this, and that] Life affairs. [no longer valid]

SEVENTHY-SEVENTHEERS

The Devil may tell Who’d like to be the devil? - Is cast down for thee who did not refuse to be himself to govern the fools wanting what they haven’t won, seems that the master-plan of a fool, the jester and the schemer is alike, and the apple indeed does not fall far away from the tree while human weakness is the hell’s play lo! let’s leave the governing to moths, when we can leave the traces of the escape routes into starry domains, that know nothing about such idiotic terrestial games - and me? I’m just a spectator, charming the skies with pleasure, and dancing to hells delight, assembled for purpose of witnessing,

then abandoning the theatre, scattered or gathered - where the difference lies?

I have no concern for numbers, because that of my lot is the

infinite stardom’s wonder. Hereby I sign, with all hoofs and halo’s, with wings chessboard-coloured, that I am no-one now, and once captured, I will be no-time

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that defined in obscurity, will leave great surprises and gifts to discover in the Empyrean laughters for some who will find enough dignity to be humane in this

abanadoned Boddhisatvean theatre

FLASHES OF IMPERMANENCE

Even if the old gods, tired, are seeing the impermanence Even if the immortals, seeing birth and decay want to depart Even if for the sake of humans, who can still experience the beauty

confined within a flash of existence in the aeons without time Of what purpose is it to an old tired soul To become a god, to be tired, and see the impermanence once

more To become an immortal, and see birth and decays in sweeps that

maketh all To be a human, when human within was burned away Even if for love, that gives, and takes with death away Is an experience suffered for centuries before And cannot grant a soul's rest in no heavenly parole Than what is there more, than with the consumption of the cycle, rest in Sige beyond existence and non-existence Something that simply, beyond all human comprehension Is and cannot be no more

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SHADOW-WALKERS

These, consoled in abandonment, One leg walking death, The other still here Call further the prisoners, And to these in pain and exhausted, May consoled in abandonment be. It is not a deed to win anything, It is not strife if purposefully won, What in times of doubt, Even if thrown into abyss, Recognized as whole, Then strife should reveal, That which one may console

DRUNK ON THE WIND

Drunk on the wind, City sounds nought Storm that clashes against air, Shatters against its’ own swords Where whips are made Of dreams, hopes, ideas That fall enchained to dust Present what’s lost to heavens Than to a cohort of shades.

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NO TANGO

The most painful regrets Are not born from the Things we know and see. But in the mirrors Of hells, reveal The things that Were hidden, Unfelt, the ones That did not happen, Salutations thus to: Aspirations To high ideas undone, Loves greater, that Lacked in fates’ eyes Abolished by jealous minds For misfortunes, That were executed nevertheless The scheming of low fates, Against destinies, And the whole circus, Perverting minds and hearts, Where minds and hearts we Need the most.

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WHOM WILL SEE ONESELF?

Within the Passing time, Who may merely Become humane, It is of the Same essence, that unfolds, yet when captured, it has no Sense at all; Let every moment uncaught, Find its way to the soul, This is the only key If thus one might think, That assembled for a while, to carry Forth or withdraw; Whether terrestrial, Or Empyrean stage The purpose is to see, The impermanence of The scene, and fade Away, with arms Belaboured, or empty Memories left behind, Or nothing lived at all, All vanity - they said And indeed - all vain Rushed into the world of light,

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Then beyond it into nought, The greatest terror, To leave existence behind, Yet how lightly it flees, The comforters of every Domain, wishing us to stay. Even if as a mere traveler, Yet the traveler knows, That all witnessed falls, And every splendor tied With grief, is a cycle That doesn't know its rhythm. Find him a land, where Nothing dies, where All is bathed in beauty’s Light, where no fates Wrong, for these lands Are beyond fates’ eyes. There only the necessity Where infinity lasts, And all at rest and No trace of “I” is found How it is, that exhausted Never dream of heavens, Nor claim immortality, And disappearing from Sight of pain, is enough For fate’s reward to be; Yet every thus who Combats, professes Both, being, and Anatman, While knowing Neither oneself nor

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The destination; Thus art of life questions, To whom art of memory To whom the forgetting art, From aesthetics of forbidden, To glorious celestial arts, Capturing moments of reality, Unbound, All that memorized should be Conjured, becoming real Disbanded, no longer of Concern to me.

Perchance the universe Is a place to see And become all the Intricate webs, Become, to move beyond The dream-world, and Forgetful be, Whereupon the world With actors and spectators Disappears, upon discovery That no one escaped this dream, Knowesth thou that it is a dream In which only dreamers love to be, By force of its existence, Sentiments calling back Even shadows, that Did not part, and with Longings, forth it runs, Until all falls silent, One by one, Withdrawn, Merely to unbecome once more

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HAMARTIA

Fates are fortunes’ treachery Weaving everything that was Not supposed to be. Behold, all script-writers Come under Hamartia’s Scrutiny. None escaped, yet Punished are the most, Who pretend that they May Fates enchant with glee

PURE FORM SENTIMENTALITY

The ones that bow under the tears of mankind And the waning humaneness contained in these We are not parted with the Eden that we have lost Still looking back, longing, while the machinery goes on Pure form sentimentality of ‘ecce homo’ that fades In a land of million empty shells, that separated The same shout from its follow up Is it the shadows that cast themselves upon us? For we dropped our own with all the essences Once had Yet, telling a secret,

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Even shadows sometimes embrace in a lost kiss, So when whimpering ‘the end’, perchance the silent Pair will perform the wheel’s last turn.

FATES

And lesser fates have Passed through the graves And mud and toil without Complaint, and greater Fates have fallen not out Of their fault, yet with regret

LAUGHTER

There from primordial Tiamat an order was carved That torn by her ancient sons remade into World Womb calling back into Pari-Sunyata At the verge of a fractal falling apart Deepest reality of geometrical machine In instance a universe dies, or renewed By plundering, blinding light, that Sews all into One, perhaps stealing and Seducing minds into its wonder and awe For to choose between laughter And emptiness, better it is to laugh it all away.

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MEMORY II

Take the weary lesson That none you may keep And the family of graves And dancing spirits Forgot already All the treasures That impermanent are And even in purpose of guidance So many left nothing behind Yet infinitely more free are Charging blindly has no sense For the compassion is never Replaced with forceful passion More a fool one is When against fates Rises in wrath Neither stepping on the path Silently, where the subtlety Of the road is forever tied With the thriving rose, and When this under armor dies, Where is the road, and how Faded the rose? Not through force one helps, But through free commitment Better to leave behind the soul to sing Then allow the words to chain

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They will convince it that it has to pay For the soul to sing again

SILVER WEBS

The danger of empty tears is such That reminded of old agonies The soul torn apart no longer bleeds, so corroded silence breeds regret, and longing that should be put aside: Not to resurface anymore. There are domains of mind and heart, That once lost, are never found, And no matter what woe felt the loss, the wound, the scar, That only opened reminds to feel, Carry so the death alive, while excused from life you never are. Then set yourself free, For this chase not worthy Any pain nor tear; and Observe the mirage unfolding As the days go by. Do not utter a single word Of complaint against what You were not fated to thrive Accept how defeated the mind, Nothing more needs. Only the souls that did not abandon,

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All that was the root of their suffering, Are attracted to illusions of now And hereafter, but from the cycle They are never freed.

DEPARTURE

What life’s share beyond Once parted with fate’s circus Of things impermanent That only fools still crave Not even a leap to the past Which a simple excuse Will provoke to tear apart A hardened mind and heart To mock the ways of the Higher compromised, And nowadays despised.

SILENT ABIDING

There are domains of mind and heart, That once lost, are never found, And no matter what woe felt the loss, the wound, the scar, That only opened reminds to feel, Carry so the death alive, while excused from life you never are. And though are fights consumed On losing battles, the memory Into oblivion resolves, and

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Still on grounds of losses, Nothing excuses one from fight, In turmoil, or on rise, the Venom against which we stand, Is all still the same, thus Either we let it soak, drunk On its vice, or disciplined Enough to sustain the work.

GHOSTS OF DRAGONS

The wronged cannot perceive their ways For they exist solely on blind paths Once confusing blinds of forms And desires for their final rest Governed by their drives, which like a flickering Flame, all pass. So chasing others by and by, try to make them Executors of their coarser chase Pull into impermanence of what never is Enough, to confuse them for their lives, Or with higher woe, observe the wheel Of fortunes until the last Earthly turn This merely the tip is of our humble Mortal lives; dare to look into the stars, The muddy waters of the path will seem Lesser still, and all the comfort that The star-bound truths console, and All the Earth’s hidden kingdoms Will appear, despite the veils of deceit Telling each of us: “Rest, there is nothing Else, but us, and human mistakes to adore”; That from graver mistakes seeds arose

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And passions stronger than a mortal May endure, yet captured once in violet Star nets, repeats the same wrongs, How can this creature be blamed, For once with hate, once with love, Once desperate agony or still bliss Torn in the movement of these ways? From Earth’s oceans womb, Dagon’s lands Dragon-Star endowed, heaven-ward trees of life; Watched by High Ones set to guard With the Seven Pillars shedding tears; Over lost children that far removed From these who rejoiced upon the Tip of the birth of another universe, rarely may See their humble soul, upon the wastelands Of greater world-systems of pasts that now gone, Remind the children of fallen suns, that grief Beyond sense, may be conquered merely By commitment to the worlds that still are Yet the Sky-Gods never left us, although In fields of deception many lose hope, Until the Golden-Silver wing’s embrace Will return all the children to Starry fields Of Yaaru How nurtured thus Ra, yet how forever may Be understood, and perhaps the Green Dragon, Not only out of viciousness attacks, but Also seeing the lands that fell, his wrath From a greater pain of ancients gone, And giants that we were, and never are, In forms cover the stars, not to remind us Of destinies that turned into woe

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Through fates that powerfully strike, And remind that none is permanent Even this world. Thus repeating the cosmic spectacle Reflecting upon ourselves; Between the form and essence, Forgive our shadows; may they never captured be If fates mercifully spare us, it is only for the chance, That others may released be. And though we walk alone between Yggdrasil’s waters, for the times are not merciful to what in nature was united and free And spoils High Breaths of Lives, and ideas contained In the hearts, that witnessed once, remind of Natures that in Opera Omnia Descend one by one to set us free; Never looking for surrogates of sleep, settled for a Lesser quest in lessor worlds may be; from which So easy it is to fall, yet for all that passed and guided No abyss nor fierce black fires of form seem to be a threat

anymore ;

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NETJERU

Then in the moving splendour As the great Falcon descends Manifest! All living beings; Oceans, lands, and skies Waves that take another Holy breath, and return Into the womb of Earth Tower-tall divine pride Almost touching the sky Insight like storm, an All-seeing eye; Wisdom’s Penetrating depth, In a moment flashing Divine Silence, that never Asks, knowing bright Then the polite nod, An understanding smile Stirs the Force, and Mortal life awed Ah the rupture, ah! Remember! So easily Swept the memories Under earthly mirage.

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IN THEIR IMAGE

Gdańsk 2nd of May 2015 - “let the streets be of poetry”

Crowds moving along The last sight of a body With dead eyes kissing The silver-lined wings And with a pool of blood Soaking through the jaws Engraves its soul onto Pavement’s vulgar fabric As the essence fades away And under the warmth Of wings moves its silent Lips whispering An old life away.

OF AEONS

Banished in the world, mind disconsolate where to find home? Where an alien sun opens the eyes to the greater mansion, and the Earth not as handsome as before, caught by beauty for a moment, and the restlessly long to return prison of form, or vessel of realization, that the mind is seeking, it sheds the skin

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behind Migrant in the eerie worlds finds his roots beyond the stars

SATIATED

Satiated with illusions To be a thunderstorm A pebble next to a shore A Tree, a hawk in flight Then weaving lonesome Song near a faraway star Sung again with the sylphs Of Obaron in the air Descent to wyrd where All forms one may be Through portals taking Shape, in all worlds - witness, thus, free! Weird realities travesting Disentangled unbecoming On waves of consciousness Again for a new Form to be where both The calling with a Consolation unbound By what a human conjures For himself To Be and to believe.

ENNOIA

I sat under the shadow Of the good and the true And through countless

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Winged Aeons I grasped once The branches and roots Chasms and Black Fires Splendor of Light and Awe of infinite space She, the thunder divine Swift huntress, escaped The imprisoning mind That enchantress wise We charted together The maps of ivory towers That with pristine light Help to navigate Handsome spirits Of the stars Where they descend At powerful birth, Numinous lightning Like Dervishes dancing Whence they return, In the cosmic chaotic fields of formless potence to be reborn anew.

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WORLD I LOVED YOU SO

World I loved you so That with each breath of life It was a torture to let you go And the blood and tears I shed Honoring thee, I must fade with Memories away to ever set Myself free

AS THE THUNDER ROLLED

As the thunder rolled across forests And fields of wheat Lost soul with no sense Cried to mutely speak “Look, there these insane men wage Their blind war again” As forests and meadows replied: “Tis so, blinded, not dancing stars Anymore, we thrive in darker lands Where did these disappear, Who with hope on their lips, Torn by holy woe, that tried to teach? These times no more, look at this child Who plays in burned ash, of all the books They’ve written, of all their loves undone These ashes speak a greater grief “Be gentle, child, for what great And wretched things lay here forever Only knows that dirt, king of fading time”

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THE RETURN

As the earth kindled dearly my soul Granted rest I lay far below Graveyard dirt covering me With each sad sigh of shovel does release me Remnants of what I was, and all the memories Of grief, happiness and woe with dust there lies Signed ‘Invicti genii, memento mori’ On the marble stone of a grave, for lost ghosts, Passing by, to be reminded and see.

THE QUESTIONING

And the angel asked me: “What about the people, your possessions, fates? I replied: “People join the family of the grave, possessions are not

taken beyond, fates are as they are, some wronged me, some elevated me, burn it away”

“What about loves, do you not regret all that you have lost?” I replied: “That is a lesser passion, and the great binding destined

only for holy pairs, I have no need of that, burn it away” And the angel asked me: “What about your glories, your empires of the mind, do you not

regret all that you have lost”

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I replied: “These are lesser things, that belong to Earthly realms, that were a burden of my conscience, I have no need of that, burn it away”

And the angel asked me: “What about your love of life, of this world, would you abandon

it?” I replied: “That I leave for the great men and women that

compassionately look behind, I have no need of that, burn it all, burn it all away

And the angel asked me: “What about your harvest of sins, your sufferings, and pains, don’t

you want to find retribution, would you abandon it?” I replied: “That is a lesser binding, for the spirit may not be chained

by them, it is the mind that is deceived into pain, and revenge is a venomous circle, that never ends, burn it all, burn it all away”

And the angel asked me: “What about the world of the Divine, do you want to join us then,

parting with this life?” I replied: “That is transient, it is not complete, let me rest in silence,

when my spirit thirsts for light, burn it all burn it all away…for parting with this world once, I don’t want to part with it again”

As I looked into the angels face, it turned into a daemonic

grotesquerie, and it said “Fool, you are left with nothing, as you please!”

“And so the world I leave to thee” - I replied.

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THE DAYS

Long were the days, when soul’s night Burdened his heart, hell’s strongman And princes followed an iron crown, As the night-kindred sought out prizes To be won, large feathers kissed Embittered lips of avalanche within souls veins - guilty bloodstream, Seizing venomous words - these, Spoilt into despair, burning fires Heavy ordeals, caught in agony, The convict, the seal, holder of the realm An equal of thorns, with golden orbs pierced The clouds, with freedoms potion To rotate with galaxies silver arm Black-lit bones captured in the umbric Void without a shard of hope, seek The fullness written across the stars.

DRAGON-KINDRED MINDS

Focused on a single will, the power that moves still, Penetrating sight, devoid of emotions, iron sight And sometimes abyss fills my mind, and terror reflects Within, yet reclaiming reality it is all cold, And waiting to be remade by the strength-filled veins Yet, this in wisdom of a single rule, a wise guide, Or a mere psychopath, reminded thus - don’t forget About service, this - misguided - turns into poisonous Cold and merciless greed, that refusing the burden of might, Resuscitates parts of the soul, in toxic sadistic impulses Just to feel something more.