I
A mountain of smoking charcoal with flaming eyes
opposes my passage. No way around.
The mouth opens into hellfire,
giving me the only way. I fly into the fire,
leaving my moist soft overcoat behind,
seeking his master. Where's the boss?
Yama, we know each other.
You consented to speak with me
in the cultured voice of a maharajah
who plays polo with heads
though you would only answer my questions
when I agreed to let you place your noose
around my neck. I have seen you
in a business suit, in a robe of flame,
and in the black Tom Mix outfit
of a cowboy swinging a lasso.
Can this be you? This monstrous being
skyscraper tall, who makes your gatekeeper
look like a child's stuffed toy?
So many arms, so many appendages
that snake and spider from your terrible black core -
the devouring eyes, avid to drink breath of the living.
I have come here to purchase a life.
The mouth opens into hellfire,
giving me the only way. I fly into the fire,
leaving my moist soft overcoat behind,
seeking his master. Where's the boss?
Yama, we know each other.
You consented to speak with me
in the cultured voice of a maharajah
who plays polo with heads
though you would only answer my questions
when I agreed to let you place your noose
around my neck. I have seen you
in a business suit, in a robe of flame,
and in the black Tom Mix outfit
of a cowboy swinging a lasso.
Can this be you? This monstrous being
skyscraper tall, who makes your gatekeeper
look like a child's stuffed toy?
So many arms, so many appendages
that snake and spider from your terrible black core -
the devouring eyes, avid to drink breath of the living.
I have come here to purchase a life.
- from a journey on Gore Mountain, April 29, 2012
10 comments:
A rather particular kind of Beltane fire. All hopes that your transaction was successful. Thinking of you on this Cross Quarter Day.
Hi Stephanie - Bealltainn blessings to you. A dream of fire and death (from another person) prompted this journey. I believe the negotiation was both successful and necessary. Not a journey I would recommend to anyone who had not already traveled through death and back, in a literal sense - and even then only with high and urgent purpose. What you have read here is only the beginning of the story, and the first part of a much longer poem I wrote from it last weekend. I shall have to feel my way on when, if at all, it is appropriate to share more, and if so, in what form.
This entry rings with truth and sincerity - it would be good to share the whole poem if it retains this quality of authenticity, thank you Robert Moss.
I'm honored to have been present at the birth of this poem, although I don't know the details of the journey. The horrific image does complete justice to the words. I so appreciate your unflinchingly honest creative fire, Robert.
Thanks, Nancy. You will understand why I am in no hurry to post the rest of this poem, precisely because of its power.
I could see how intense this was. I hope you write from dreams such as these just a little more. My dreaming is not always sweet medicine and the more malleable my mind the swifter I get at the resolve! World events don't always stay out of my dreaming and some of my families would never be in a better homes and garden magazine. Best to expand the mind to help, and not just be able to emotionally guard.
Bright Blessings to you Robert
PS: just in case you don't know I wrote the word malleable in relationship to how the higher self, the Soul self sometimes influences the mind and shapes it for action, "you know".
Patricia - perhaps I need to make it plain that I wrote this poem from a very challenging shamanic journey on behalf of another person and must use discretion in not unveiling more than a certain amount. What you have read here is only the opening part of a much longer work.
I understand.
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