| William Blake Jr. 2005-08-05, 5:56 pm |
| She was leaning her head backwards across the stars. There was a
golden ball at the bottom and it was severed from her. They were
playing football with a diseased soccer ball or so it seemed. The
dark ball kept passing from one set of hands to the other. Shades
and shapes, brown and black, kept floating through him. He saw
them most clearly when he leaned his head back against the
mermaid with forgetmenot look in her eyes. Sometimes he would be
inside one of these shapes and be buried. There were places,
places dark and desperate. They had been playing a soccer game
with a dark object, and there was blackness. A divide and conquer.
It had been crisscrossing the mind - crisccrossing the space -
sickening and confusing. There was a golden ball at the bottom,
and she was sublime. But he had been further bound. There were
roots in between the golden ball and the golden body. She was
reaching for the golden ball and wanted his help. She had been
soothing him and caressing him and giving him light. And now she
was asking for a return favor.
He did not wish what was on him to be on her. There were pangs in
every nerve each time he tried to move. There were daggers through
his stomach his chest and his mind. A smell of garbage and sewers
was around him, a smell not his own. There was a burn with an
incense stick through his navel, where he had sacrificed family
spirit and cut the cord and let in the Netzach and the Kether. "Do
you think it's easy for me?" she said. Of course not he muttered in
shame. But centers had been taken away. So he forced himself back in
and reached for it.
So he looked down, he leapt into space. There was an interlocking
web of roots, and dark seeds, and seeds extracted with which they
were playing soccer. A galaxy on Orion's belt he chortled, a belt of
a cat, where they played soccer and there were severed souls on a
seven-mile snake. We were crippled but we were free when we pierced
its skin and burst into living, crippled but free but unarmed. So
there were daggers and there were knives. There were sewers and
cigarettes and sadistic cops and bar fights. There were smells and
they swooped us up. There were sewers where the naiads once played
and the naiads were brown. There were chartered streets and doric
verandas in soot and budweiser spills on the checkered floor and the
columns were breeding worms. Systematized, claiming morality and
authority, had gone unchecked and unbalanced because its effects
were unquantified and the code was part of itself. And yet there she
was, splendid and perfect and self-attained like a diamond,
nurturing like a galactic nebula, delicious like a bed of poppies
and crystalline like translucency, a golden form and a living
enlightenment reaching back for her soul.
He did not waste time and shot from the lighting bolt. There were
feet on the Binah and a cigarette butt. And weren't these the feet
that once walked England's mountains green he wondered, But they were
dark and brown with severed souls, a grim social service that was
antiuniverse and he remembered their fates, so there was motion. A
motion incessant and unpredictable is the only thing that can beat
the Binah. So there was motion. There was game with a diseased soccer
ball, and the dark object was flying and smashing through. So there
was a swirling motion and a buzzing and motion in every moment. And
lightning. All kinds of lightning. All kinds of lightning and all
kinds of verve.
There were voices telling him many things. "Jump in the river" they
said, and he will. But the river's not here. He reached. And
remembered. To reach for the place that was passion pure, a place that
existed inside. A place that will rise on its own when all else is
gone. What you don't know you are but are when all else is gone. He
reached for this place. And from this place grew tree of gold.
There were things swirling inside the gold that was not in him but in
her. They had killed many nymphs and many naiads. Words had been
anticipated and redefined. The Mermaid knew the eternity in her eyes
and against her eyes words were checked. So he found places not yet
contaminated in his heart and shot from there.
In scream of justice denied he found dissolution to mechanist magick,
in scream of souls stolen and cut apart dissolution to divide-and-
conquer. In scream of the universe underseas he found disollution to
social obstruction. In screams of the other he found refutation of the
lies spread by word of mouth. Injustice unavenged is injustice
systematized is part of the moral code is destruction of life at its
roots is a destruction of humanity at its kernel. So he kept whizzing
across the man on the Binah not because he did not like the Binah but
because the man on the Binah did not belong there. And he laughed at
the daggers and flying shapes. With a leap under the feet took the
soccer ball ack into his hands and made it his own. And gave her the
light. And said, Carry this, for you are better than me and deserve it
far more.
WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE he shouted at the dark shapes. You who
blather about humility yet have the arrogance to invade minds of
others. Who talk of honesty yet wouldn't take responsibility for
your psychic output. Who blather about life but produce nothing but
poison to kill life wherever it may appear..
He had caressed her sculpted cheek and looked into her eyes. Her
spirit light was spectacular, multicolored. How long had she done
this work, but this was not even enough; he was speechless so he
was quiet and let her breathe to him. Her spirit light was on him,
nurturing soothing caressing and he extended his hand to where it
was dark and let reiki flow. He felt the delicacy and golden
diamonds, keys to the universe, keys that he once had seen and known
nerves of God. Her softness and clarity brought him alive and he
kissed her lips and he kissed her eyes. He ran his hand through her
features divine and let reiki flow. Oh God he was moaning how could
I have not known. He wanted her to undo him. He wanted to be made of
her. He wanted this light to be shared. His hand was going into
places around the third chakra where it was dark. He was kissing her
where it was dark and removing tendrils. Her light was reflecting
through him and giving him an apparel that had never been his. He
smiled from a place that was hers. His heart lept out and flew
toward her and she laughed. He put his cheek toward her and her gold
was upon him. And there was stillness. But he was not alone. There
were daggers and snakes, many daggers and snakes. And they were
listening and very angry.
This was only to be expected, but not that real. They had practiced
this art for a long time, he thought, and got good enough to delude
themselves and all else of its wisdom. And each time they tried to
make him feel guilty he recapitulated to them that they were
gangsters who had conspired to murder love, poetry and beauty. All
these of course were to them dirty words, expressions of what can't
be usurped, and a code of usurpation did not allow for any expression
of reality. All this was known, but not felt. It was not felt
because there were daggers in every nerve and garbage in every
muscle. So he said that the soul was immortal and would not be lied
to or lied about or oppressed. And reached into eternity. And was of
it. And she was with him. A golden jewel and a blanket of stars. He
reached into eternity and they were together floating. There were
souls and a gathering, a bee's nest. "Is this what you wanted to see"
and drone-work and beesnest and rageful vengeful embittered stingers
of could-be-queens, ladened and full of tar. So he connected to the
black wall and there was darkness and he saw the light on the other
side and let her inside the cavern. Stay there and tell nobody. And
kill anything in me that might seek anything else.
So he leaned back his head and let the golden head get the Kether. And
gave her a set of keys. Not because he did not like Kether but
because this was the enlightened solution. Many voices were screaming
through him, and he did not trust himself not to harm her. They were
coming at him with knives. So he gave her his sword and put his jewels
in a cask and said let her rise from foam.
Something attached to him, Much of slime. "Burn it Burn it" came
voices, and there was a lighter. And frantically though he turned it
it wouldn't light up. So he called prometheus unbound within and lit.
And it was third chakra. So he claimed the third chakra and the ball
was his and he came to her and gave her the fire to warm her cave and
to keep her alive. And by now she had his sword. So he fell to her
feet and there was stillness.
Lilies.. pond water..a golden backcountry sun... meadows and fields
but they weren't fields they were sanddunes. A landscape formless as
wax he thought, impressionable with anything he may put forth. But he
realized that his own mind was too sullied for this, that she knew
far more and was better than him by far. So he dissolved into her and
let her impress upon him what he did not know and what the world had
attempted to hide forever.
And suddenly he understood that they were the only two people there
if they wanted to be. That this was it. And kept to this realization.
And drank her gold. And gave her his fire. And she chided him for ever
thinking of anything else. And there were tongues, but they
disappeared the more he looked into her eyes. There were many things
they could think of. Classical music was playing. There were voices
calling and lives many lives. But he was here, and there was no other
place he would rather be.
She was gold and she shouted at him to be there for her. So he came
to her and held her and kissed her and held her in passion. Sit still
was the command and he did. There were many hands but he sat next to
her still and held her with every nerve. The flesh was replaced with
gold and he cried as she stood above him with finger on her lips
caressing and looking into his eyes. He cried and he said oh god thank
you. Merged consciousness with a river in Central Park. There was gold
around him, and a brown dog couldn't stop licking him. There were
voices assailing but couldn't get in when he was giving what he had
been given. She stood above him with finger on her lips and distilled
jewels in her eyes and caressed his heart. He was heartbroken when she
left and was recapitulated the next morning.
Ilya Shambat
Originally posted May 2000
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