Monthly Archives: June 2019

Craft of the White-Crow…

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Whiter than the swan on a lake

Whiter than the gull of the stream

Whiter than snow on the high-peak.

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Like a wave of the sea from ebb to flood

Slender as the tall-birch, blowing…

Of a shape-sweet as full bodied clover, bobbing…

Of a colour-fair as summer’s bright morn, glowing…

Your presence, the dawning glory of the land.

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Lovely the sun’s smile, rising…

Lovely the moon’s sheen, climbing…

 Lovely the stars gleam, shining…

 More lovely, the blush of your cheek.

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Vegetative Soul? …

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The Ancients it seems

Conceived a three-fold

Analogy which linked

Agriculture, Generation and Re-generation.

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These systems were regulated

By the sun, the earth and the moon

Which moved together in cyclical process…

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It was, perhaps, not such

A bad conception, after all.

Mister Fawst! Study…

 

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Mister Fawst: (Rises to stand, still clutching the weighty tome to his chest. He walks in front of his study desk reading out loud.) ‘I think, therefore, I am’… Hrmph, but if life is no greater a miracle than to think? Then, surely, I need read no more…

Mephisto: (From behind the Veil of Beyond) Surely, a greater subject befits Fawst’s wit!

Mister Fawst: (Still showing no signs that he has heard Mephisto) Pah! I have that… (He casts the tome to the floor in the East and returns to his desk.)

Ira and Luxuria are seated simultaneously.

Mister Fawst: (Once at his desk Fawst scrutines the other books on his desk and selects one.) ‘The way that can be named is not the way’… (Fawst considers the proposition as he moves to the West) Hmm, the unamed way would be difficult if not impossible to formulate, let alone think about, and then follow. Could it even be seen? And if unseen and hence to all intents and purposes unknown, of what possible use could it be?

Mephisto: (Moves out from Beyond the Veil and perches on the edge of Fawst’s desk) A great man should be both seen and heard. Why, how else will his disciples know who and who not to follow…

Mister Fawst: (Apparently, neither seeing nor hearing the entity in his study) Enough of obscurity! The miasma of mystery will not further my ends. (Fawst casts the book to the floor of the West and returns to his desk)

Avaritia and Invidia are seated simultaneously.

Mephisto: (Watches Fawst move back to his study desk with no little amusement. He rises from his perch and points to one of the books on the desk.)

Mister Fawst: (Seemingly of his own volition, picks up the indicated tome from his desk) ‘The reward of sin is death!’ (Fawst wheels away from his desk and heads to the North)

Mephisto: (Throws back his head and laughs loudly) Ha Ha Ha…

Mister Fawst: (On reaching the North) But this saying is hard… If we say we have no sin… We lie… We sin… We die…

Mephisto: (Still unseen and unheard by Fawst) What doctrine call you this?

Mister Fawst: Che sera sera… Divinity, so long! (He casts the book to the floor of the North and returns to his desk.)

Tristitia and Gula are seated simultaneously.

To be continued…

Caladur: Visions…

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The hermit showed Ewan a path

which led under the cliff, into the wood,

and on to a thorn tree beneath which was a well-spring.

He bade Ewan return to him at night-fall with his visions…

“Become not weary of looking,” he said, “what you seek lies

within the purvey of spirits, and that takes time.”

*

So Ewan took the path and found the well-spring,

which had been furnished with a hexagonal stone well-head.

He peered over the rim of the well-head and into the water,

but all he could see was his own visgae and the thorn tree behind it.

*

Three times Ewan peered into the well and he looked longer

and harder each time until just as he was wearying of the endeavour,

the water in the well, clouded and cleared so that it was as if

he was peering into another world.

 

Caladur: Still Water…

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…”Surely I heard a voice,” said Ewan,

“although that voice was neither mine nor yours?”

“I heard it too,” said the hermit,

“and many more like it before. In solitude

there will be voices as in still water, there are visions.”

*

As Ewan thought on those words he saw only before him,

the racing, tumbling, burbling stream outside.

“Where is the still water of your visions?”

“Not far,” said the hermit,

“but the looking is longer than way that reaches it.”