Phanes' Descent: A Poem by Charles Bryant скачать в хорошем качестве

Phanes' Descent: A Poem by Charles Bryant

This is another of my 'Orphic' poems. I cannot dictate to my readers the 'meaning' of the poem since poetry is supremely user-friendly and the meaning of any poem unfolds itself solely in the mind of YOU, the reader. PHANES' DESCENT Persistent images of face and figure; reproducing voices in my head that echo in the cave-skull. Nightmare dreams amplify the vision of one man appearing superhuman in his rage. The sudden cutting off, divorce, despair leave me fatherless, an orphan child wandering a vast Dickensian city, vision of a London lost and gone. Wingclaps as the dove descends opening flower of the human heart wriggling to a thin green snake eight-rayed wonder of the waiting world. First of the few, you threw yourself upon me. Far apart are earth and air but at the centre of the heart inmost purpose of the labouring mind - is found the image of the golden egg. The sphere is floating in a blackened void unprotected and devoid of outward aid. Who shall resurrect the lapsing soul and lead it Hermes-like again to heaven? Circling circling circling though the night contaminated by the unseen force but yet producing boundless light a second image more severe and much more bright unfixed from the iron orbit of the sphere cascades vibrations through the depth and through the height. From smoking altars incense rises up suffusing all the aspects of the moon that slowly lifts above the distant mountain. Late or soon the emptying cup void and dry of tears consumes itself in witless fears. The moon weeps and the word is mute; all mankind is turned to stone. Unless quick lightning shoot into this mind to grind to nothing the repulsive rind how may we follow where the Son is gone? The Son is gone to God and dwells therein. Mankind lies vacant on the empty earth. What can we do to win the splendid sphere? How smash the torpid image of our death? How smash the torpid image of our fear? Resignation, resignation and decay... Coiled incoiling in this crawling web bright-eyed Maya lurking at its centre; labouring through the womb of Mother Earth blackened by the darkness of her soil; hopelessly tenebrous in thought and deed my body cannot put away its weight nor my sprouting wings grow larger yet. The birds have mocked me; the fish have cried salt tears. Lilith Lilith issue of my thigh enclosing bosom, cavity of pain unless you rise with me into the sphere we neither one can know our heart's desire. Why draw me down, chain my fierce mentation? Why slave me to the beauty of those breasts at which the world and I must feed? Why block the path to those supernal crests and leave us here to weep and bleed? The dragon sleeps. Night, with folding wings, unloosening its hair across the world comforts all the pathways of our pain. Her warm and willing limbs, the mesmer sleeping in her clouding eyes, her silent subtleties of breath which close me round and moonlight phantom of her curving lips have made my pain an object of desire. Enchanted by the slowness of her mind reaching for the smoothness of her arms I lapse away from consciousness and dread and sink myself upon her body's flesh.