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2 Crumpled Wisdom
Other: Secret Name & Gentle Urgings of a Vaporous Dream & Transformations
In Arcadia of ancient golden daysthe women smiled with resplendent gaze
on men who loved them, in candor they told
their heart’s content and lived by nature’s ways
their pleasing forms; beauty that can’t grow old
but will dream away as dreaming will flow
into a vast ocean called long ago.
On its shore dreaming man plans and plots
numbered days swiftly pass untying knots
that he will tie up again as he grumbles
“too soon I die, for what?” until he spots
naked Aphrodite, who turning circles
through the wood, is sweetly scented, a misty rain
that falls she claims to cleanse him of all stain.
but he is swollen at the sodden root
and destined from his naked hip to shoot.
Aphrodite will turn herself away,
though he howls in pain his ardor is moot.
Its Adonis she would have cradle her sway
but his virtuous lips did not long for hers
dying he left her where a sullen heart stirs
Adonis’ silent body, hard and gray,
no shadow of beauty left as it lay
on ground wet from Aphrodite’s tears shed.
The lovely goddess weeping brought dismay
to Olympian gods unused to dread
Zeus was glum to see a goddess cry
but had only advice to tend, “mortals die,
loss, hard grief to bear but tears in torrents
from your pretty laughing eyes, is nonsense
you weep to stop time passing, you shudder
no fear of death but dread to be past tense,”
with raised hand so spoke the lord of thunder.
She wanted what she feared most, to be alone,
so said, “let me be,” in a commanding tone.
Arising from her love, laid out by chance,
the goddess was poised in the classic stance
on one leg solid the other knee bent
toes to head a perfect sway but eyes askance
the gods looking on did fear her intent.
“My every pore open tastes my love,
I see him around, below and above.”
the goddess with open arms did tremble
all her being began to dissemble
soon her perfect form was light rain falling
and Olympus where the gods assemble
was lost in clouds to memory calling
to a dreaming man on a watchful shore
under heavens peopled by gods no more.
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Commanded sentences, structured and many words sovereign
over lords and ladies who slip away into the fresh dug earth,
dank and dark, only shades now in death’s underhouse.
once so proud they now align the endless corridors,
swaying to and fro in darkness and in awful silence.
And crumpled Wisdom crouches in mind forged chains,
begging alms or a candle from the passing shades.
Wisdom has no pull in Reason’s court, the venerable judge has gone mad,
he spews verdicts unintelligible pronouncing
sound arguments untenable.
Can Wisdom, after all, be only a lodged complaint,
ignored, as darkest, dark night
compresses close all around
but punctured by pinpricks of light.
Intelligence bright, she answers,
“oh friend, your mind’s a candle
are not the pinpricks of light the many
stars above, have you grown so large
to be closed in by the stars?
You’ve only forgotten how to breathe. Remember
Our Lord, who spent three nights here.”
Wisdom looked into his cupped hands and saw
in the faintest of light but growing steady and strong,
a cross, a cross of light.
In the east a fire blazed, dissolving night.
“Arise, arise renewed, see the night it’s only foggy dew
see our Mother’s fields encircled by the sea
and the tree that stands at the worlds center,
streaming golden in the sun.”
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