Amid Bracken, Along the Brae

In another Place
One of the Far Places

I walk the Deep Forest of Xu-Hector
For I am often found amid bracken along the brae
And this is indeed my favorite Season

I poke this rotted stump
With my staff . . .
I guess I am never so sane as I am here
Under these patient oaks
Under these cyan skies
I toil not nor do i spin . . .

I look up into a cathedral of scarlet oak leaves
And bear witness to the day
To the laugh slash of this brook
To the undulation of the grasses
As they whisper hissy secrets to the wind
To the dance dancing leaf shadows dappling
The meandering waters

The wind
Playful as a pup
Tugs at my clothing
And then runs on ahead

I can feel it before I see it
Something is here
Something . . .
Something is here . . .

My Quickening

In the crackle-sharp air of that blazing Autumn afternoon
I stood on my Grandfather’s porch
and felt myself ‘feeling’ for the very first time

The grey, porch paint
The dust in the driveway
The skies burning
Azure edged
Sharp enough to cut you
The flaxen-gold collage of the maples and oaks
and ever-dying apple trees

The wind was walking the hillside
and something sonorous sang me into Awareness
Somehow my hands had become things of strange and surreal beauty
as I pressed them into the wrinkling membrane covering the Universe
My child heart shuddered under the enormity of Reality
and everything took on a texture like something out of a DMT vision

Somehow I knew without knowing how I knew
that I was everything I could see, hear, smell and more
I was the child standing
and something standing beyond
And the man I am now

All watching

All at once
Yet . . .
In a place outside Time . . .

I have walked under many skies
But never again
one so Real

the possession of all that you own

“I might not be able to buy happiness with that much money, but I could make a down-payment.”
“Hon, obsession with money blinds you to the art and texture of your life. You become the possession of all that you own.”
“That much money. . . I’d be satisfied.”
“There is no lasting satisfaction this side of the grave.”
~ from the Handbook of the Reluctant Tyro

When you’ve played the game with Death

“When you’ve played the game with Death as many times as I have, you come to realize that you can’t win, you can only postpone defeat.”
~ from the Handbook of the Reluctant Tyro

When you drink from the Well of First Things

“When you drink from the Well of First Things
the Rush is. . . well, it’s beyond all expectation.
You see your creation take life and cavort in the Temple
and oh how they shiver, quiver and frisson.
Like motes dancing in a shaft of sunlight
falling through a darkened room.”

“Yes,
your creations. . .
but then you come to know
that for every angel you create
a demon must be dealt with.
This is how Logic and Proportion are maintained.
This shows more than anything else
that Balance is the life’s blood of the Universe.”

~ from the Handbook of the Reluctant Tyro

Behinjari and I

I am a demigod in training
and have a name but can never say it
I only know it when I am called

In the rainy days of heaven
we often seek entertainments and distractions
and having tired of several kinds of argument
I begged Behinjari to spar with me

Not often given to such amusements
he at last relents
Several of our number gather
for he seldom engages in the contact sports

He toys with me and every time I advance
he moves like water
moves like wind
and he is suddenly behind
in front of
nowhere near me

I go through the dance the third time
and decide to put a little spontaneous variation
in my movement
I lunge at him when anyone would expect me to pull away

And he is not there
he is no longer anywhere
Everyone gasps in surprise

I laugh
but it turns into a troubled sound
I call for him to come out and show himself
Everyone looks about uncomfortably

I ask everyone to help look for Behinjari
and we look behind the clouds
we look below the seas and beyond the stars
we look under the mountains and within the hearts of the stars
we look between the moments and across the time after time

We look till we are exhausted and spent
I stumble while climbing back up the hill and feel something
funny inside me when I lurch
I call the others to the hall and ask them to watch me closely

I go through the dance a forth time
and pull a spontaneous movement
as I land
I lunge to the left
as he is lunging to the right
and there he is
He has been hiding inside me all this time

We all laugh till we cry