PART THREE
The light beamed forth
To touch my world
Surging
Impulses
The key of consciousness
Unlocked the door
Opening
The light penetrated
My eyelids fluttered
"*You are awake*"
A voice said softly
"*Good*"
"I have had
A strange dream"
I said
As I touched my side
I felt for the wound
But
It was not there
"My dream was of savages
And their rituals
Ceremony
Spears
And my blood"
I looked up
At her as she kneeled
Beside me
"It must have been
The heat"
I said
As I stood up
She said nothing
She stood
Beside me
And
Took my hand
And I,
With the other,
Stretched it out
Toward the many paths
In question
My hand swept the horizon
"How did you get here?"
I asked
"And
How will we leave?"
As the sweeping hand
Turned my body
I saw behind—
A pole
"*Let us go
This way*"
She said
Pointing to her right
There seemed to be
Fresh stains on it
"My world still suffers
From the heat"
I said to myself
I turned back
And holding her hand
We moved off
In the direction
She indicated
"I must have been delirious"
I thought
As we walked along
"Hallucination,
Closing off consciousness
To the reality of my world
Still—
It has done no harm
For I feel
Energetic"
No longer the stumbling
The dragging
The falling
"Yes,
The restoration
Of rest"
The lady singled
A path
From the crossing of paths
One to lead us
from the maze
Time passed quickly
No longer the mental hindrance
Of slowing feet
And heavy breathing,
Sweat dripping
Companionship
Several hours
Gone
And the paths
Thinned out,
Only a few
Crossing
The plains began to roll
The wheat waved hello again
The sky was a darker blue
And rode upon the shoulders
Of white fluffy clouds
A bubbling stream gurgled
Following below
Following the path
Little animals peered
From their homes
And sailing birds
Wheeled upon the sky
Walking along
And the white white silk
Never soiling
But always light and joying
Fluttering slight
Making silent noises
Louder than her words
Days upon
And I thought she would never speak
But then one morning
As the sun rose
And shattered the darkness on the mountain
To the left
And as the birds
Began the morning note
And life emerged
From sleeping hideaways
She began to talk
A steady voice
Slow with patience
"*For many days
I have traveled
The mountains
The plains
The paths
And again the plains
The jungles
To the fringe
I left my mountain nation
Where my people live on top of the world
Though sometimes in the deepest valleys
And though my trip was a long time planned
I left with a heavy heart—*"
She paused momentarily
As we crossed
A rippling stream
"*A short time before I left,
Evil plotters rose up
And now my father is dead
A great man has died
He was a ruler
He ruled strength and power
He ruled with wisdom
Ruling love and compassion
He ruled men and women
And had a control
In love
Over all living beings in his nation
The morning I left
The nation mourned his death;
And though I am with
The infinite mode
Still
I am a relative consciousness
Unable
At times
To bring forth the happiness of the day—
A conflict,
A paradox of existence
Accompanied my journey
And when
I met you
Upon the fringe
Still
I was in conflict;
Inner thought,
Cloaked by silence,
Was my strongest weapon*"
She smiled
And I
Replied with silence
But finally
The ostensible
I said
"I'm sorry about your father,
And I know
For him - the scales are balanced,
And for those who did the deed—
The scales shall be balanced;
Still
I understand not
Why you made the journey
To the fringe?"
"*Simply,*" she answered,
"*I followed the plan
Of a dream
Sound foolish?
No-
They are messages
From the other side,
And
I know
When they must be
Fulfilled
And it is
Mostly
They come from
A high source
Of knowledge—
So,
I planned,
I journeyed
And you came,
Even
As I knew
You would
But I traveled
With a heavy heart*"
She paused
Once again
With a longing Look
But only
For a short time
And then she spoke
Of other things
Light and cheer
Words gracing life
And boasting happiness—
I could tell
She knew the meaning of today that day
And hand in hand
We continued on
The winding path
The wind blew
And dark clouds rolled
Thundering skies
In light and dark
And as we traveled the path
In storm
Upon
The night came
And there was lightening
Bright lightening
Shaking the dark
And waking the night
"Dawn
Rising dawn
Breaking the way
And comes the day
Oh sunshine
Oh rain
Oh fog—
Lifting blanket from the grass
Shine shine sunshine
How beautiful your rays
This day
Your day
Today
Path path
Walking path
To the meadows
Of running grass"
Our feet met the meadows
Of grass
Green grass
Roaming
Meadows of life
Grass and flowers
Flowers flowers
Colors all"
How beautiful were the coloring fields
Crossing streams
Feet
Bare feet
Love of life
Scenting flowers
And joy beneath the weeping willow
"*To love happiness
For all
Is true love*"
We laughed
And talked of life,
Later
She sang a song
And we enjoyed the present
For what it was
That day
We continued on
And—
A sparse barrage of trees
Shot up
Surrounding us
The meadows met the mountains
And the mountains were at our front
While the meadows flanked us
Beginning a fringe
Speaking of many topics
She spoke of war
And I agreed
With her opinion:
"*War is a useful means
Of experience (of gaining knowledge)—
The truth of sadness
And loss of those you love
Yes,
Useful for the savage,
The wild man, or the beast
All climbing the chain
(Climbing for perfection);
But for the cultured,
Knowledged man
War is useless
And serves only
The ego of governments
Or the false beliefs of religion,
And not the man
"*Yes
Cultured man too
Is climbing the chain
But by the time he is cultured
And sophisticated in mind
His need for the knowledge of war should have been fulfilled*"
As we furthered our journey
The path began to climb
The air was crisp
And smelled of pine
Little animals
Wary
Watched the travelers;
Myself
And the lady in white—
Graceful and smooth and patient
Walking
Talking
She spoke of events
To come
And the past
"*I remember a poem
Which once
I read:
I am the present I live for now
Live with me and I'll show your how
Live not with the past, a moment ago
A week, a year, a century or so
Live not with the future of future days
For the future is a means of many ways
Here then
Is a factor for happiness:
Learn from the past
Plan for the future
And live with them both for the present*"
"Maybe,"
I said
As I pondered
Her words
"But I never stop
Thinking
Of the day
When I shall find the sun"
"*It is good
Keep your ambition
And your goal
But do not live in the future—
Becoming too involved
Will destroy
A strong will*"
I said nothing
And thought
To think later
On what she had said
Ahead—
Gurgling over rocks
A mountain stream
And just below—
A pond
We approached
Hand in hand
And looking at me
She said
"*Tell me
Of you*"
We sat down
Beside the stream
Resting
Eating pine nuts
Living
Breathing the fresh pine-scented air
And watching the fish swim
"Even as you—
I am
And have been forever
Simply,
Still I am
And will be forever
I have always traveled the infinite cycle
And always will
Finding and losing my sun
Searching sometimes
Without knowing for what;
"I have had infinite experiences
Still I expect
And find new ones
An infinite more
For this is the way of life
"And now
Again
I am searching for the sun
"Perhaps
You can help
But
You must not speak in riddles
Like the voice of Ad Infinitum"
"*The voice of Ad Infinitum*"
She said thoughtfully
She paused—
"*I will help
If I can*"
She finally said
"*But being curious
Tell me of this voice*"
"The voice
Yes
The voice of mystery
That none can hear
But me,
Speaking in parables
Of multifaceted
Interpretation
"It has been with me
From the beginning of the darkest age—
A small light,
But too small"
She pondered a moment
My words
"*Then
It is your voice
Because it speaks only to you,*"
She said
"*And therefore
Can come only
From the inner existence
"*It rises from the depths
Of your soul
It comes from the very flame,
Yes,
It comes from the center,
From the very source
Of your being
"*It comes from the spark
That gives every soul
Its life
"*It comes from the infinite force,
Creating
Relating
Striving to be heard
By the soul's ear
Of every man
Yet,
So few
Can receive*"
She paused a moment,
A twinkle in her eye
"*Dear sir*"
She said
"*I think
You are closer
To your goal
Than you know,
For
What you describe
Can only be—
The voice
Of infinite wisdom*"
"Why then the mystery?"
I asked
"Why the puzzles?—
Why so taunting?"
Again
She took
My hand,
"*The voice
You hear*"
She said,
"*Comes to you
Upon the path
Of a thousand lifetimes,
Filtered with mystery,
But
Trying to teach*"
"Perhaps you are right"
I said
"But the riddles are still
Of no help"
Swirling a
bout our toes
The water forged its way
Down the mountain
We sat silent
Again
Watching Nature
And each other
I leaned back
Upon the grass
Inflated cream puffs
The clouds
Passed lowly
Slowly
And others
Very high
Above
In the blue sky
Life stirred
The day was pleasant
And the water swirled
"*Crystal clear water
Running the stream
The fish
The frog
The snake
Running the beaver
The deer
The elk
The moose
Running the brook
The pond
The river
The ocean
Clear clear water
Running the clouds within the sky
Crystal clear water
Running the stream
Running man
Summing the energies
Focusing the mind—
The step between,
Magnification
And the sun rises*"
We splashed the water
Bathing so cool
And playing beads
Tickling trickling
Back again
Back
Falling
Fell
Again to be splashed
Ripples moved
Upon the washboard pond
Bounding rebounding
Back again back
Trees and logs
Sticks and twigs
Mud
Beautiful mud
Dam Dam
Beaver dam beaver
Beaver built
Majestically built
Splashing joyously
We splashed
Heaving
Happiness tears of the world
We rose
And crossed the stream
We bounded on
We laughed the pure laughter
We talked
We sang the song
We walked on
Into the day - that day
We passed trees and boulders
Little homes of little animals
Blue jays with cocked black hats
Flew
From tree to tree
For the joy of food
Steep
Then level
The path
Tracking many tracks
Gladly we tracked
Hand in hand
Arm in arm
Now together
Now separate
But always bound
We traveled on
Distancing
The desert away
Closer
To her home
We came
"You spoke of enforcing a goal"
I said,
As the path
Rounding a bend
Overlooked a forest meadow
(I was thinking
Of a previous
Conversation)
"*Yes
I must travel
To the coastal cities
And there attempt to bring wisdom
To the cultured savage—
This goal must be done
Before I travel on*"
As she spoke of the coastal cities
I noticed above
High above
In the sky
A huge black bird
Circling
long
and
slow
He stooped to a dive
And swooping
Swooped low
Then up again he flew
His beak shone
And so his feathers
As
Of a hole in space
"I wish my goal
Could be
So simple," I said
Stooping
He swooped again
Coming closer
"*Perhaps someday
It shall,*" she answered
The bird
Flew higher
In the sky
Became a black dot
And disappeared
We continued on
Through the forest
And eventually
Becoming narrower
The path stole its way
Away
Through a darkened woods
Crowding pines
Crowded out light
But now and then
The light broke through,
Beaming upon the path
Magnifying
Reflecting particles of dust
Many times
The light beamed upon
A dead or dying tree
Lying
Across the path
While others
Crowded in
To take its place
The turning twisting winding
Narrowing widening
Darkened and beamed upon path
Found its way
Through the living forest
Once in a while
We crossed
Through mountain meadows
(The spatial miracle of the mountains)
Where trees refuse to grow or crowd
And continually refreshing
Were streams and ponds
Clear mountain water
A sparkling force
Along the way
As we traveled
The path
The numbering days
Multiplied
Becoming weeks
Upon
And then one day
As the dawn broke
And coloring light
Fell
Upon lofty peaks and ranging woods;
While rounding a bend
Deep in the forest
And
High in the mountains
We came upon her village
Lying below
In a huge mountain valley
Unheeding the teeming life below,
Smoke spiraled forth from chimneys
Up up
It dissipated
And disappeared
Dogs barked
And children played
Men and women were not to be seen;
Not quite ready for the coming day
The streets of mountain earth
Were puddled with water
Of a recent rain
The homes were cabins
Made of logs
(Some of planks)
Some were painted
But most
Not
They stood
Like forest mansions—
Firm
In the valley
Brisk
Upon their mountain foundations
Waiting only
For the fall of time
Seeing the village
She quickened her pace
A little
The path
Sloping
Turned the bend a little more
And began the descent
Winding
Toward the village
As we approached
She took my hand in hers
And with the other
Palm up and extending
She motioned the valley and the village
"*This is one
Of the many
Of the mountain empire*"
She smiled
And kept a steady pace
Her being
Vibrated cheeriness
As we entered the village
People
Came forth
From their homes
Introductions handshaking and storytelling
Renewing of friendships
Made up
The entire day
Most of the people
Were glad
For her return
Even
A few tears were shed
For the occasion
The day progressed
From home to home
And twittering talk
And finally
With the twilight—
Shaded colors
Orange
And rose
Reflecting clouds
Mirrors
In the sky
Illuminating
The trees
In varying shades
Of the twilight
The day
Passing from sight
And slowly came the darkness
The dusk fell
And the night cracked open
Stars twinkling
Pinholes in the night
And the moon lit its light,
The dance hall opened
And a mountain party
Was given
To welcome her home
Dancing and singing
Took place
And
Merriment
Decorated the hall
While
Fiddles
Sang their tune
To the mountain night
Old men gathered
In the corners
And tales of old were told
The party lasted
On and on
Til the coming of dawn
And then
As the sun
Rose
Beaming its colored rays
Into the valley
Slowly
The celebrating ended
And the people
Trundled home
On carts and rolling stones
Having said 'farewells'
To all the people
We set out
Upon the path
Traveling toward her house
Which was set in the side of the mountain
Overlooking the village
Talking leisurely
As we walked
Upon the brown path
And breathing in
The brisk mountain air
The moon was setting
To the far end of the valley
And an owl was hooting
In the distant forest
"*My home is unlike
The others,*" she said,
"*It is made of marble
And things*"
And indeed
It was
Upon arriving
It stood before us
A stately home,
Marble pillars and walls
A marble balcony
Overlooking a fountain
Overlooking a long yard
Overlooking the village
An old man upon a huge marble porch
Taking my hand
She took me forth
Away from the house
Across the yard
Across a small garden
There
Beneath a huge oak tree
Was the grave
Of her father
It was very splendidly set—
Amidst the flowers and grass
And green trees around
A simple headstone
With nothing
But his name
Beside the grave
Stood a statue,
Impressive statue
Of a man searching
Watching
Waiting—
Silent in bronze
And in his hand he held a plaque
To cite
The words
Of the epitaph:
I, the people of his empire, of the world, dedicate
this plaque to a very great man; who left me too soon.
THE DEMISE
To be a great man you must know hell as well as heaven. You must know the sorrows as well as the joys of the people. You must be able to rise up and look down into the core of their mighty world to seek out and assuage their problems. To be a great man you must let wisdom guide your thoughts; guide them into manifestation. I look. So often I look and yet no longer do I see the greatest man in the world. Look closer. I look closer. I scrutinize. I peruse the pages of the world. "Where is he?" I cry. Then mournfully I conclude that no longer shall I read his great lines of wisdom.
Yesterday might be yesterday. Yesterday might be a week ago, a year ago, or it might be a hundred generations ago. Yesterday might know infinity. Yesterday might be
tomorrow, and tomorrow is tomorrow; and this is why; yesterday and tomorrow, all the fates (thoughts) of the world combined and rose up to take from the sight of all the greatest man in the world.
Oh God! I cry for this man. I weep for his love. I mourn his death. He was not just a man. He was not just a president. Yesterday he was the greatest man on Earth.
The statue stood hard and cold
With its hard cold message
For the world
To read
Again
I read it
And saying nothing
We turned
And crossed to the house
The old man sat hunched
In a rocking chair
Smoking a pipe
So serenely
Man old man
Upon the porch
Her father's brother,
Friend
"Greetings
To you
Sir
I am
From the desert
And still
It is
And I have a few grains
Upon my shoes"
Talking
Communicating ideas
On different subjects
But mostly
Of the man since gone
The old man,
It seemed
Always turned the subject
Until
Again
He was discussing his brother-
The lady's father
He was bitter
Discouraged
Resentful
That his brother had been taken
From life
Within the world
Yet,
I thought
The old man dwelled
Too much
On the life past
"Build
On your brother's foundation
For the future"
I thought
Without intentions
Of saying it
Perhaps
The death
Was too recent
But
Whatever the reason
It was not
The time for me
To try
To change his ways
Finally
We finished
Our talk
And rising
The lady and I
Entered the house
Within
Were colors
In mingling
Standing time
Curves
Designs upon
Lines new and old
Rising
Fabrics on fabrics
And rolling cloth
Wood on wood
Wood met metal
Schemes and patterns
Arrangements timed
How slow the world
Sparkling
Glass and crystal
Mirrors
On the wall
Colors of gold
Soft soft light
Room and room
Again
Style of splendor
To make styling shine
Low fine curves
Such lines
Running fine
Redundant
But timed
"*A simple house
For
A si
mple man*"
She said
Several days passed
Visiting the house
The village
The land
And the people—
The joy of warmth
Friendly
Kind
The kind of love
Of people
Loving
And being loved
(Experiencing
What mankind is possible
Of spiritually achieving)
We continued on
But came the day
Too soon
And she spoke of my sun
Sitting on a ledge
High above her home
Overlooking the valley
Down below
In the village
Little people
Dotted
Moving so far away
All around—
The woods in tune
Birds sang
And the sun shone brightly
"*The easiest path
To the sun
May be the hardest*"
"Ridiculing riddles
Again"
"*No—
I speak of the Masters
High in the mountains to the North
Far
And many days away
Upon the highest
Of all mountains
"*There
There trails a treacherous path
Hard and cold
But there you might find
The sun
"*Long ago
The Masters left their mountain
And traveled to a higher plane
But in a cave
They left a book
And in the book
For those who can
The rising sun*"
I thought
For a moment,
Then I concluded
That this was probably
The path
Of the prophecy—
An opportunity
I would not pass
"Yes" I said
"Let us go,
At the end of that cave
May be the end of my search"
She looked down
At the village
"*Perhaps,
But perhaps not*"
She said
"Yes
Perhaps not
But climbing a mountain
To search
For the sun
Will not compare
To the searching
I have already done
"Yes
We will go
And if
I find not
The sun
It will not increase
The longing
Of my search"
I waited
For her reply
Still
She gazed
Looking at the valley
(Or perhaps further)
She sat
Remaining silent for awhile
But finally
She said
"*You have worked hard
During this life;
And as hard
In lifetimes
Before
"*Your searching
Has brought you
Close to the sun
"*And your powers
Are vast—
Vaster than mine
Though your material consciousness
Does not
Yet
Realize it
"*Yes—
Your sun is near
Shining upon an easy path
Which soon
You will follow
"*But soon
May be longer
Than the mountain is high*"
We remained silent
Several minutes
Listening to the woods
Living
And watching down
Far below
The dots
Then reaching
Slowly
I took her hand
And turned to her
She looked into my eyes
And I felt the magnetism
Of her radiating self
Moving
Slowly forward
And bending down
I kissed her lips
A silent breeze stirred—
Whistling through the pines—
Soft and cool
The melody
We whiled away
The time
And soon
The sun went down
We rose
And walked down
The path
Again
To her home
There
We stayed the night
And the next morning
Rising
We went about
Making ready
For the journey—
The long, hard journey
To come