Posts tagged mysticism

‘In the brief dust and light’ – P.B. Shelley

“Man is of soul and body, formed for deeds Of high resolve;

on fancy’s boldest wings.”

“If winter comes, can spring be far behind?”

Here is a very small excerpt taken from the lyrical drama ‘Hellas’ by Shelley, which he dedicated to the Prince Alexander Mavrocordato of Wallachia. This drama is rich in historic imagery, taking influence from a fascinating period in humanities great adventure; when God kings waged wars, blood, wine and romance were thick on the ground; Greek, Persian, Arab and Oriental imagery and characters all merge and mingle on the page.

Shelley is certainly a western seer, a sage with fabulous gifts of insight into the mystic and most of all, a brilliant story teller, renegade poet, political thinker and bizarrely, devout atheist (or someone who opposed organised religion and its norms at the time). Shelley died at the tender age of 29, he led what you could call ‘a full life’ (which seems a distinct underestimation).  He was outrageously talented and fearless, a true free spirit who embraced the burgeoning ‘free love’ movement (which only seemed to influence a handful of poets and artists at the time!)  Shelley attacked monarchy, war, commercial practices and religion whilst championing republicanism, vegetarianism, free love and atheism.

“Rise like Lions after slumber

In unvanquishable number – 

Shake your chains to earth like dew

Which in sleep had fallen on you – 

Ye are many – they are few.”

Every poet of the romantic persuasion should have a bit of Shelley in them.  Its the part that wishes to stay up all night long, lamenting the open, pale moon, sipping wine with Dionysus and making love with Sirens and Faeries.  The hopeless (and ever hopeful) romantic.  We all need a little genuine, joy based debauchery, carefree expressions of exuberance, if in word and image alone.  As Shelley once said ‘the poet is both a Creator and a Destroyer’ surely insinuating that the poet rides the waves of spontaneous creation which rise and fall of their own accord.  This poet wishes only to be with that which speaks through them in formless, uninhibited and timeless love.  Poets feel an unspeakable obligation to transmit the ethereal, the otherwordly, the unimagined beauty of existence via ball point, quill or keyboard.  Like divine spokespeople, they have an essential role in any civilised society and Shelley’s words speak as vibrantly and as intensely as they did all those years ago. He creates great vistas in our minds which cannot be washed away; conjures unknown emotions, challenges and soothes with tenderness and guile.  Shelley wished to be remembered in such a way:

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe

Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!….

Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth

Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!……

Here is a flavour of Hellas, one of the choruses that inspired this post:

Worlds on worlds are rolling ever

From creation to decay,

Like the bubbles of a river,

Sparkling, bursting, borne away.

But they are still immortal

Who, thought birth’s orient 

Portal,

And death’s dark chasm hurrying to

and fro,

Clothe their unceasing flight

In the brief dust and light

Gathered around their chariots as

They go;

New shapes they still may

Weave,

New gods, new laws receive,

Bright or dim are they, as the robes

They last

On Death’s bare ribs had cast. 

This is an incredible passage and is a succinct description of what some would call a very ‘spiritual’ description or insight into our conscious state of being.  There seems some esoteric understanding being exhibited here and it is fascinating to think of what influenced Shelley or his reactions to such reflections.  A form of fertile inspiration and eloquence which is awe inspiring!  They certainly don’t make atheist like they used to!!!!

Advertisements

Leave a comment »

The Taste Of Morning – Rumi

Times knife slides from the sheath,
As a fish from where it swims.

Being closer and closer is the desire
Of the body. Don’t wish for union!

There’s a closeness beyond that. Why
Would God want a second God? Fall in

Love in such a way that it frees you from
Any connectivity. Love is the soul’s

Light, the taste of morning, no me, no
‘we’, no claim to ‘being’. These words

Are the smoke the fire gives off as it
Absolves its defects, as eyes in silence,

Tears, face, love cannot be said.

Rumi

Comments (4) »

When Blood Greets Earth

Up in the early morn on the mountain glen,

From the wild woods, many strange sounds ring.

 

The morning fire lies smouldering by the old rocks

And moss lies heavy and true.

 

Around this grave a wanderer, knelt by the cairn;

A pile of skin and bone, rapt by natures affairs.

 

The heather shakes in time with the silent seas,

The mountains surround are throne and protector.

 

When blood greets earth, may we no longer roam,

The silent storms will cease, as beauty unfolds.

 

No legend greater than this myth that I hold,

A giant alone in a universe of sparks and molten dreams.

 

And the sun arches in glory upon the heavens we build

Up here in the lonesome valley hills.

 

Blessed with such a sloping vantage point, a crag not far

From the buzzards steady gaze,

 

Encamped on dappled autumn plains, where the glacial streams do cleave,

Spirit swirls and evokes, perfumed with brazen gorse.

 

When blood greets the earth, the battle recedes,

We are destiny emblazon over these hallowed peaks.

Leave a comment »

The Flames of Truth

In the flames of truth

Ash litters the way;

Falling as shadowy motions,

Stirring in the depths.

 

The perfection of whole moon

Draws tidal sap to the within,

To the crescendo of beating hearts

And shortening breath,

As craving ecstasy melts within the peeling bells

Of finite love.

 

In this hidden stream

We trace the mystical;

A clear vibration, a fearless dawn,

A plaintiff lullaby in the clutches

Of earthly beauty.

 

We are revealed as the force of passions

Incarnate, far from origin,

A species of finite seekers

Well placed in the void of night.

 

Reveal yourself!

Open to the sense of unity

And eternal moods,

Stirring the formless coils of supreme

Existence,

We are close to the quaking muse

But cannot dream her graceful countenance.

 

To enter the heart, as naked as before,

With the courage of a dragon,

Feeding on our narrow horizons

And transcending instinct.

Fit to give ourselves to the fire

And lie in peace amongst the flames.

Comments (3) »

The Ox and Cloud

Orientation cloud

Sparkling firmament

Sleeping ox ambles

Timeless skies call

Invisible lover

Tickles my bones.

Comments (3) »

Clear Sky

I imagine

Greater changes,

Creativity spirals

Without control,

The universe reflects

Something of nothing,

As we play with

Our infinite potential.

 

Momentarily;

Our collective memory is a

Shared greatness;

No action inert,

No form is lifeless,

When the eyes of the unseen

Are seen.

 

The known is rising

And falling,

Insight lights

Darkened corners.

So subtle the energy

Passing through,

A divine dialogue ignites

With deeper intent,

Drunk on intuition

Colluding with silent speculation,

Form means

Emptiness profound.

 

Over my thoughts

Creation lingers,

Evolution clings

To wisdom re-inacted,

 

The actor falls silent

As the selfish idea

Is susceptible to a wandering nature

Embedded in flux,

Freed now to drive

In clear skies.

Comments (4) »

The Sound of Soul

Guided by the eminence

Of being here,

A master sat with clay,

Enlivened in the aroma

Of sage and age-less incantations.

Take up the reigns,

Transcend

The irrelevant guise,

Desires

Crushed between thighs,

In the symphony of this downpour,

Wash yourself clean,

Purified in the deluge.

Chaos breeds

A harmony inexplicable,

Restful

In a seat of awesome power.

Control elusive and irrelevant

In the cascading existence

Of the glacial stream,

Here lies the source

Crystallised in nothingness,

The bluish grit and glory of being

Prevalent in its vastness.

Silence

Preceding all things,

Beauty

Perceived by the heart

Of the beholder,

We bath in the light of love,

Just this.

As great ages pass,

Rain scents vision ecstatic

Washing clean a mystery serene

With memories of who I have been.

Senses revived,

Shadows dancing on the walls.

Shivering far from dawn.

Unfettered by pronounced logic

in the divide,

Chasms bridged eternally

With the blink of a sightless eye,

The endemic mirage a tireless expanse

Of reason,

Hear it fall

And feel reborn,

The echoes of a thousand Buddhas

Resound within your skull,

Pad lightly alongside benevolence,

Perfectly present,

Never alone.

Comments (6) »

%d bloggers like this: